Nottingham's streets might be looking a little dead right now, but this fasionista caught our Georgi's eye...
Sometimes I get sad that I can’t wear trousers. I can’t help seeing the jeans, the suit trousers, the corduroys and especially the cargo shorts strutting past me and I feel like somehow I’m missing out. I try and stay positive, try and accept my body the way it is and live for me, you know? But it’s a work in progress.
I love having a purpose. It feels good to dedicate my life to a worthy cause, and have people appreciate me. Like, there’s this family that comes every week, they put a Boris Johnson mask on me and take it in turns to punch my head. That's a real special time because it’s really clear that I’m making a difference to people’s lives, I’m providing a service here. That’s what matters, right?
That being said, I’m really looking forward to stepping back from public service: the pressure, the scrutiny and the politics. Perhaps I’ll work the fields instead, it would be nice to spend some more time with nature. Maybe that’ll be when the pandemic is over, or maybe it’ll be in three years when they choose a better bunch of people to lead the country. All I can do is dream of the day the NHS staff and key workers feel appreciated without my help.
- Scarecrow
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