I was waiting at traffic lights in Norwich this afternoon when my eye was caught by two figures ahead of me, dressed in red coats. They were little old ladies, backs bent with osteoporosis and for a moment I thought they were walking hand in hand, until I realised they each held one handle of their shopping bag. Then I noticed they were wearing matching headscarves, decorated with bright flowers on a white background and that their coats were not just similar but identical. Feeling a bit spooked, I looked them up and down. Indeed, their shoes were exactly the same too.
The lights changed. I looked as I drove past, trying to see their faces, but their heads were lowered and partly obscured by their scarves, so that all I could see were similar beaky noses.
Surely they are sisters, maybe twins? I imagine them as spinsters, who have lived together all their lives, doing everything together. Now, similarly affected by crumpling bones, they support and rely on each other, so close that they even choose to dress exactly the same.
I told Al. He thinks it is rather lovely. I find it a bit creepy. Yes, comforting for them in a way, for they have never been lonely, but unsettling too and more than a little unnatural.