Mrs Oedipus Rex: Ultimate MILF

For those who didn't understand the joke, the wife (and mother) of Oedipus Rex was Jocasta: they both took it fairly hard when they found out she was playing a dual role.
Wednesday: an afternoon off. The rain was taking an afternoon off as well so we scooted to the park for half an hour, don't seem to have done too well at that recently. Sam and Puddle-Emma were there with her friends Poppy and Amy so we ran about, got wet feet in the large puddles, climbed and chased and stole hats etc for a bit.

Our orders were to visit the large charity shop in Elm Grove and look for wardrobes. We parked in the highly salubrious area called 'Somerstown' and walked south through rear access passageways strewn with old cans of Red Bull, for there is no closer parking. The wardrobes were many and one of them was almost nice but Jof has to understand that they are all probably 7th-hand and are on sale in a charity shop, so may not be a) new b) modern c) stylish d) unmarked e) worth even the £100 price tag that seemed popular. Once you've paid the £100 and the £15 delivery charge and got the blokes to take away your existing wardrobe (free), it's a bit final, so we demurred. 

With the full support of the assistant, we took the pragmatic view and declined to buy any but send Jof in at the weekend in case we bought one she didn't like. On the way out I ducked down a side alley between the pseudo-Chinese take-aways and ran off down the back streets of beyond, with their polychrome vomits, torn-up Rizla packets and dead cans of Wikkid Brew lager, not to be seen for several minutes. I had in fact taken the correct route but for a seven year-old that does not know his way around the council estates, multi-occupancy high-rise tenements and bedsit-lands of Portsmouth, it was a bit much and there was shouting. Apparently now I have to be on a leash.