Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Friday, 6 July 2018
What's in an uniform
I took this picture at the National Railway Museum in York and I am using it here as it illustrates this post's topic. I don't know who was wearing it in the trains or the train stations of old, but it certainly gave an aura of authority and competence to whoever was wearing it. It is almost military looking. I was thinking about it when we went last week to Armed Forces Day (albeit very briefly): what fascinated me about the army when I was a child was mainly that: the officers' uniforms. And their shining stuff, their elegant cut. It is as if we instinctively know this set the person wearing it in a special category of people. I wanted to wear one. Sometimes I wished, even now as an adult, that I had a job that required to wear such uniform. Not just any: one dark and with golden insignias. But I am not cut for army life, and I cannot picture myself working in a train, even though I love trains. And as I said, train workers don't wear these kinds of uniforms anymore anyway.