Brethren.

Plain and modest dress.

A couple of days ago, I went out early in the morning, about half-past seven, to get the household grocery shopping before the roads and stores got busy.

We intended to go down to the Old Town and the wholefood co-op, and get our water from the spring in what has become the usual way. But we needed a big bag of kale, some cartons of oat milk and almond milk, fair-trade bananas, frozen fruit for our kale shakes, and a variety of other things.

The mornings are cold now and, not long past sunrise, it took a minute or two to clear from the windscreen and other windows the condensation that will in due course be a layer of ice in the early morning. But the day was bright and clear, and I enjoyed driving along before the traffic turned into jam.

As I drove along past the bus stop, a woman waiting caught my eye. Once you get it, you never forget it. You can’t not see. She was doing her best to look Mainstream and Normal. Pencil skirt – but not too tight and just past the knee. Dark coloured top, fitted close to the figure; but a high neckline and a cardigan over the top. Long, long hair worn loose with just the merest Alice band doing duty for a covering. Clearly longing to look like Everyone Else.

“Oh; Brethren,” I thought, as I drove by.

Plain dress is a language that can never shake off its accent to pass as a native of the World.