The costume hangs empty on the winow blinds, a mile too long and a mile too wide, waiting for a body to fill it. She has no idea how she'll cope wearing the thick woolen fabric at the parade. Sure it'd be grand at home with the chilliness all around her, but here, in the unrelenting heat it's a different story. She longs for the green grass and crisp air of home, especially when the streets are full of girls dancing, straight backed, straight armed. Now she wears the leprechaun onsie, watching youtube videos and sings the song about cockles and muscles being alive, alivo.