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  • In France, you can tell the real workers - they wear "bleus", Blue trousers and a blue shirt/jacket.

    I wanted one. I coveted this uniform of the French peasant. I went to our local depot/vente ( a splendid warehouse full of second hand good of all descriptions - from genuine antique French beds and sofas to tat of the most disreputable kind, gloriously mixed at random) in quest of old men's clothes.

    The blue jacket I found (immediately) is branded "Kidur" or Qui dure - which lasts. Or who lasts. And was brand new, complete with original paper label. Who knows why it was never worn? Who failed to last?

    Hey. It's comfortable and practical and one of my very favourite things.


    I don't like the fact that, when I want something, I often get it like that, on a plate. You know the Rolling Stones song, *You don't always get what you want, but sometimes, you get what you need"?

    I often get what I want. Is it what I need?

    This is what, mingled with my triumph at getting what I want, gives me the blues.
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