Today Bill’s talking about a woman in a beautiful pristine white dress, and the price of being such a woman. Reminds me of a spectacle I witnessed last week.

I didn’t know such soap-opera elegance existed in the real world. She wore a perfect strapless black summer dress with white polka dots, flowing long scarf around her neck, expensive-looking wide-brimmed hat and glamourous sunglasses.

I was sitting in my car, waiting at the red light in the middle of a diluvian downpour, the kind that can only last minutes. She sat at the red light in front of me, in the most studiedly stylish convertible. It was soon quite obvious the car was either not hers, or brand-spanking new, for try as she frantically might, she never did find the button to bring the top back up.