The Pinny

She worked her way through the tables and fellow diners. She parked and put on the brakes. Before leaving the safety of the walker she grabbed the side of her table. The walker disappeared. She was stable on her feet for a short while. The pinny was neatly folded on the table. Hook over the head, ties to the back and around the front. By this time, she was standing in front of her seat and she sat heavily. Then she tied her ties. Ready for her meal. So much better than a bid or feeder. It caught more of the food and spills of the cups of tea. The men preferred stripes; blue and white. It looked like a butcher’s apron. Some kept their own, others used the ones supplied by the home. Nothing looks more homely than a sea of pinnies.