Mass Dance

My wife’s involvement in the annual mass dance in Darlington meant a trip into town and, with a few hours to spare between my daughter’s Specsavers appointment and the scheduled start, it was inevitable that shops would be visited, bargains bought, and carrier bags accumulated, which were then passed to me (along with a handbag) to mind during the performance; so by the time the purple T-shirted masses began to dance my less than perfect view was from a nearby bench where I looked more like a bag lady than an interested spectator.