Or, The Awkward Business of Wearing the Same Jumper
There are few things more English than disappearing to London for the day and somehow ending up in a pub several hours earlier than originally intended.
The plan had been terribly respectable: a few meetings, a little shopping, possibly something cultural if there was time.
By six o'clock, naturally, we were wedged into the corner of a proper old London pub with dark wood, brass taps, questionable lighting and the sort of carpet that has probably heard things it will never repeat.
I was wearing BASTARDS.
This particular jumper already has form.
It was first worn by Florence Pugh, which felt entirely appropriate. There is something wonderfully contradictory about a beautifully made English lambswool jumper carrying a word your grandmother might have asked you not to say at the table.
And then, across the pub, came the problem.
Lucy Boynton.
Also wearing BASTARDS.
There are moments in life for which etiquette books offer absolutely no guidance.
What does one do when one accidentally arrives at the same London pub wearing the same mildly offensive jumper as Lucy Boynton?
Pretend not to notice?
Leave immediately?
Order another bottle of wine?
We chose the latter.
There was a brief moment of eye contact, followed by the unmistakable acknowledgement that yes, we were both dressed as bastards.
Embarrassing perhaps.
But also rather excellent.
And really, if one is going to accidentally match someone in a pub, there are worse people to do it with.
The BASTARDS jumper is embroidered in England onto our Scottish lambswool knitwear - soft, beautifully made and just rude enough to prevent things becoming too respectable.
First Florence.
Then Lucy.
Apparently the bastards are multiplying.
From the House of FUND, with love.