Januariad

Ger wears a woollen hunting cap with the flaps tied up at the sides, tilted backwards slightly off his brow. His coat is a three quarter length tweed affair, with narrow shoulders and flat chromed buttons and supportive clasps at the neck and ends. The collar has a short, grey furred lining and the cuffs are similarly detailed. The coat hangs open, revealing a fitted navy jumper with a v-neck and an orange-stitched white shirt collar visible beneath. His belt is brown, oversized, hanging a lazy, steel-tipped tongue down from the first belt hole. The trousers it hoists are uniform blue denim, upturned and downturned in the appropriate places. They show an inch of slate sock before the interruption of his brown leather ankle boots. One of Ger’s shoulders holds a buckled satchel that hangs angled at his side. The other arm supports a bicycle that is all these things: steel-framed, tan wall-tyred, five-geared, drop-barred, chrome-detailed, leather-trimmed. This is what Ger wears, carries, holds. It would be pointless to go further than this.