As I walked into town in the rain I saw, outside a pub, a group of lads smoking and drinking. These boys had chosen bad-ass as their style: loud expletives in mock Essex, tattoos, cigarettes, and backwards baseball caps.
As I walked back I saw one of them struggling to close an incongruous, effeminate little brolly. With a cheeky smile he handed it to the tiny, pearl-haired, eighty-something lady, whose umbrella it was, and whom he was helping close it. You gotta lovely face, he said.
How marvellous when life reminds just how unhelpful prejudices are.