When daughter Sarah returned to Sydney last year after her trip to India she presented Paul and me with cotton tunics each. Mine was a lovely lightweight, white embroidered top, whilst Paul’s was a brightly coloured long length kurta. It fitted him perfectly but looked more in keeping with Delhi (or Southall) than our little French hamlet. Philippe would be very amused.
After failing to convince Paul that it would look great as a dress for me, I got the scissors and trimmed it to a more conventional length. This worked well until I noticed that the pockets were now longer than the hem. Back to the sewing machine, adjustments made and voila, a new shirt!