“The Duke of Bedford will see you in the rose garden” he muttered to himself vainly. Lunch was not available in the restaurant until noon so Vernon made his way to the bar. Sadly he would not be alone or important. Dressed in a rather shabby Harris tweed, a crisp white shirt and Levi’s, with polished brogues that cost him a good deal of research time in assorted charity shops, Vernon was confident he would not look too out of place at this time of day in the bar. He also knew that a teacher’s ego was undernourished and easily dented, ill-suited to run on the straight against the slick wealth of Newmarket’s horse owners or the pugilistic powder kegs in miniature that were Newmarket’s jockeys.
41 Another explosive section from the Nonsense Filter… on The Novel page