'Piglet?'
'Hmm?'
'Do you know anything about fashion?'
'Ah, the swish of satin, the porcelain-skin-flattering broderie, the rakish daring of the postmodern line…'
'Which is an effortful way of saying--'
'No I don't. Why?'
'It was just a fashion page I came across in a magazine at Owl's. Kanga's, probably.'
'I'm going to have to stop you right there, Pooh.'
'Don't you like the word probably?'
'No, no, I sense that you're on the verge of making a big mistake.'
'Big? Oh, well, that's an achievement.'
'No, you see, you said you came across that page at Owl's but because it was fashion you immediately thought, A-ha!'
'No, what I immediately thought is that Owl ought to stop using vole-tails as bookmarks.'
'A-ha, Pooh, as in, it's fashion, so the magazine must be Kanga's.'
'Yes, but I've never seen Owl with--'
'You see, Pooh, you're making automatic assumptions. Fashion, female, Kanga--no fashion, male, Owl.'
'Goodness--I'm being as quick as that?'
'What you're doing, Tigger would say, is touch-typing.'
'Well I'll be darned.'
'You'll be more than darned if that nice Jeanne d'Arc hears you.'
'There was a motoring page, too. I mean--'
'So who's to say that Kanga doesn't harbour plans to hit the open road?
Hmm? Be another Jensen Unbuttoned? A Sebastian Fine-Fettle?'
'But I thought we were establishing that the magazine wasn't necessarily hers.'
'Oh, Pooh…Pooh, Pooh, Pooh….'
'In other words, you don't know where this is going.'
'A momentary fog, Pooh, a momentary fog.'
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