I am inclined, when
the weather permits, to take the occasional constitutional through
the medium of a long walk. Where I live there is a posh bit of town
and it's in that direction I often head. The ostentation and
vulgarity on display there are breathtaking. A conversation I had
with a stranger on one such outing included his observing that they
can't all be footballers and drug dealers. Whatever they are, they
are bereft of taste.
A recent story in
the Mail online confirms that one at least is a footballer, who can't
sell his gaudy property for what he paid for it a year ago and has
taken it off the market. It's back on now at half a million (give or
take a bit) less than he paid for it. That's nearly two week's wages
down the pan; I cry myself to sleep some nights, I really do.
What's this got to
do with cardigans? Well, my walk takes me down Cardigan Road and
pathetic as it is, that gives me a slight thrill. When I moved house
a couple of years back, I did look to see if there was a way I could
live in a Cardigan Street/Road/Avenue or whatever. There were many
other considerations that shaped my final choice and I had quite
forgotten that I'm within a couple of miles of a Cardigan Road.
This got me thinking
about how many Cardigan denominated thoroughfares there might be in
England and Wales (the first online gazetteer I stumbled across
didn't include Scotland). There are upwards of ninety. Most are
visible on google earth, some have the street signs obscured by
google. Here's the one I walk down.
 | |
| Cardigan Road |
This month's
cardigans I don't actually own. There's a few left at this rather posh retailer for eighty quid a pop, reduced from a hundred and seventy. I won't be
buying any. Not because of the price, you understand, but because
they don't have any left in my size. Any regular reader would know by
now that I would happily sell the house for a good cardigan.
Unfortunately, living so close to footballers hasn't done much for
prices locally.
 |
| If only they had them in my size |
