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The snail had given way to pale sunshine by the time we reached the Ticket Office. Folding our brollies, we joined the straggling queue.
As we stood waiting our turn I surveyed the appearance we each had in our new costumes. Maya had found an oversized olive-green suit jacket with padded shoulders. A sturdy safari hat with a wide brim hid her hair almost entirely. The outfit flattered her figure somehow. Next to her stood Mick, looking around with disguised vigilance, adjusting the brim of his hazelnut fedora and nervously touching his pure silk bow tie which was black with a day-glo design of squares like tiny, coloured windows.
Shoulder-to-shoulder with Mick stood Jon, with a burgundy-coloured wool jacket, an off-white Nehru-collar shirt underneath, his outfit topped off with a twe
