"Blast!" said Jorth, standing at the window and shaking her fist at the fat grey clouds blanketing the sky. "Literally! Curse you, stupid Arctic blast that is heading our way - I wanted to wear my new dress tomorrow, but I don't think viscose knit will stand up to your icy winds, and probable hail. Grrrrrr!"
Suddenly Jorth was struck by a thought. Winter, in Melbourne, was all about the layering, was it not? Yes, admittedly, with that deep scoop neckline on both the front and back the wearing of a spencer underneath wasn't an option, but a singlet was. As were thick woollen stockings. Feeling much chirpier, she strode off into the bedroom to rummage around in her smalls drawer. The dress, left alone on the ancient mannequin, gazed out the window and began to quietly chant to herself "Please let me be worn tomorrow! Please let me be worn tomorrow! Please let me be worn..."
Meanwhile, outside, the clouds kept their own counsel, and remained as heavy and threatening as before.