Last night I had a dream. It was as if I was in a movie.
It was 1912 and I was on a luxury passenger liner on its maiden voyage, crossing the Atlantic. The ship had just collided with an iceberg and we were sinking. In the background, I could hear a band playing “Nearer, My God, to Thee”, somewhere on deck.
I was slowly ascending a wide staircase with brass balustrades on both sides and all was bathed in an eerie, golden light.
There, at the very top of the staircase, waiting, was my shorts.
They were beckoning me hither with one flap of a cargo pocket.
(Sorry everyone. That’s the last on the shorts)