Camouflage

At the last moment, just before leaving the house, I decided to wear camouflage to the high vis party.

From my approach, I could see them from miles off, standing in the field, doing what fellas in high vis usually do: standing about smoking, or eating sandwiches, or both.

“Didn’t see you there,” said Cyril when I was nearly upon them.

“What are you wearing that for?” Cal asked, looking my camouflage outfit up and down.

“For the exact opposite reason you’re wearing yours,” I replied, squinting in the reflected radiance of the many shades of packet-fresh high vis.

More perfunctory, vacuous conversation ensued from there.

Frankly, it was a rubbish party, never really advancing from standing about bit.

And I never did get to the bottom of why there was a high vis dress code.

*

Later, browsing the DevonLive Instagram page, as I tend to in the evenings, there was a photo of our group standing in the field.

Beneath, it was captioned: A group of seven mysterious men wearing high vis spotted in field, followed by an article speculating as to what they were doing.

Little did the good folks at DevonLive know that there were actually eight men in that field, but you had to know I was there to see me.

Could they be fracking? I added to the comments beneath the article.

vss #41