I asked my other half today whether I could have a highwayman costume for my birthday in March, I'd heard Adam Ant on the radio, and I really want to be a dandy highwayman.
The fog has inspired me this week, as I imagine myself with my handy musket and mask, big swooshing cape and dainty peaked cap, jumping out from behind a tree and scream "stand and deliver" to a merchant and his wife. She faints, half in fear, half in awe, half in love (three halves, yes, she's complicated) when she realises who she is dealing with, The dashing Phantom Melis, scourge of the Bedfordshire marshes. I would kiss her hand, pocket her wedding ring, then have a change of heart and pop it back on her finger with a wink.
She (my other half, not the mercants wife in my fantasy) said it wouldn't be worth it, she is not going to buy me a highwaymans outfit, not even the big swooshing cape on its own. I'd be so lazy my horse would die, because I would expect it to fend for itself, then be useless at committing crimes, expecting people to queue up at my door to be robbed and not actually making an effort to go outside as it would be too muddy/cold/windy/rainy/hot to wear a big swooshing cape.
She said I would be the only outlaw who wasn't wanted by the authorities as I hadn't committed any crimes. I still want a big cape and mask though, muahahahahahah.
Reality hurts.
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