On Boxing Day in Zac's, when people came in for lunch, they were able to browse through neatly sorted piles of clean jumpers, scarves, trousers and so on.
I was trying to help Shamus find a jumper. Shamus has long matted hair. The clothes he was wearing were dirty and slept in. I held up a thick woolly v-neck. 'No,' he said, 'I don't like v-necks.'
'What about this then?' I held up a warm collared shirt.
'No, I don't like collars. I just like it like this.' He gestured to suggest a round-neck.
I tried another one. 'This is a lovely warm jumper.'
'No, it's not me. A man's got to have his own style, you know.'
I'm glad he insists on selecting clothes he likes. It teaches me, a do-gooding middle-classer, that beggars aren't necessarily going to be grateful with any old cast-offs I might care to pass on. They still have their pride. And their style.
xx
2 comments:
Good for him - at least he retains his dignity despite it all.
Well luckily he had a choice. Wonderful exchange Liz, it does make one think.
Post a Comment