I have always wanted a sweater with elbow patches. I am sure I would lead a more eccentric life of intellectual pursuit and eclectic delights if I did own one. The issue that has deterred me is the belief that it is a fashion for men, but surely in this day and age of equal opportunity a lady of my glamour and sophistication should be able to carry it off with aplomb and style?
Certainly it is not now the season to be patched, not as we approach a predicted 43C Saturday this weekend, but in six months or so, surely I could manage a wear or two of patched elegance for what passes for winter here?
My only concern is that I might turn into a distinguished looking author as photographed on those old 1940s novels, smoking pipe clutched between my teeth looking for all the world like a tired, retired Oxford Don.
But one must have fantasies, and take risks to live them. Even if it means I suddenly become a professorial expert on some minute aspect on the slave foot wear of the Peloponnesian War.