Margy shouts her advice from outside Greggs unsolicited, but often needed usually it concerns fashion - the choice of a scarf - inappropriate shoes for the weather - or the state of a pair of trousers, hanging and baring a cleavage (“No one wants to see that, dear.”)
Margy can be relied upon to wear the same distinct socks – draped around her stocking feet, their multi-coloured design now greyed by wear and the Uxbridge Road.
Margy is more reliable than her friends and she tells them as much (“You’re all a bunch of time wasters.”) demanding more loyalty and demands from me enough for a cup of tea - a very expensive one apparently.
And on a Sunday, she’ll kneel and pray throughout the early Eucharist, declining the bread and wine (”On, no dear. It’s not a habit I want to cultivate.”)