I saw Christine Lagarde outside The Wellcome Trust with a trolley case.
She was wearing my scarf — the scarf I had when I was thirty two:
a scarf with white dots on royal blue, or should I say French navy? —
the very essence of what a scarf should be,
which, in red, would be the scarf of the swagman or children’s book burglar
but in blue remains jolly while suggesting tradition.
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