A night at the Pub.

I would like to write a full report on last night's meeting, a report with lots of pictures so you can see what we all look like.   I would like to, but I'm sorry for one thing I am short on time again today and for another I totally failed to get any pictures at all.

It will have  be sufficient say that it was good to meet up with old friends, and to meet a "new girl" who came to her first meeting.   Meeting in a pub we are a pretty social group and tend to chat amongst ourselves rather than have any sort of formal agenda or structured meeting.   Somehow we still seem to get things done, our last big event was the IDAHO thing in Croydon Town centre, but over the next few months we have a special private late night opening of one of the local charity shops, and a make up evening.   So we have a bit of fun, a bit of campaigning and quite a lot of mutual support.   I think that the main thing for a lot of the girls is just to have an opportunity to go out dressed without fear.

When ever I write up a report on something I have done I always think to myself "Next time I must get some photos" but then I will forget to take a camera so I can't use a tripod or delay, but I always have my phone, I just feel silly and self conscious asking someone else  take a photo, which when you thin about I how I would be dressed is really silly!   I know I keep saying this but I really must buck myself up.

Now I have to go and get myself ready for Church and then later I have a LGSO rehearsal.

I want to be a cat

Just for a change life is a bit hectic at the moment, I have more work than I can handle piled up, partly because of the weather and partly because I find it very difficult to turn work away.   I also have the situation with my Mother down in Cardiff, at least my daughter has almost finished her GCSE exams now.

I am so busy and so stressed that I am finding it difficult to prioritise and have found that I have been doing lots of work, and not collecting all the money owed, as I am also struggling with some debt issues this is just silly.   Added to all this yesterday I managed to leave my wallet at the nursery after buying some bedding plants so when it came to the end of the day I couldn't pay S who had been helping me.

What I need is a bit of a rest, even a weekend off would be good, but looking at my diary I see the next one of those I have is 27th/28th July   I think I want to be my cat, all he does is eat and sleep.

In Passing

Yesterday was the funeral of an old friend.   Harry was a very musician and one of the great flugal and trumpet players, When I first knew him over 30 years ago he was still getting a lot of work even though his style of music was going out of fashion.   More recently and especially since retiring he had been seeking solace more and more at the bottom of a glass.    Of course I was saddened by the passing of a friend and of a fine musician, but I was also saddened by the thought that many of the Brass Band players who had only known him over the last 10 years will not remember the virtuosity, style and sheer artistry of Harry in his pomp.

Later in the evening my Brother popped in to see me on his way back from Cardiff, he had found the glasses I left at Mum's and returned them, this was a relieve but on the other hand his report was not.   It now seems that Mum will not be discharged from Hospital till next week at the earliest.   She will need a lot of support to be able to live safely on her own and it seems that this is all in hand but will take tie to set up, personally I feel a bit impotent sitting here in London while everything is being done on the other side of the Country.

After my brother's visit I was so tired that I ended up asleep on the sofa and went to bed about ten.   Going to Cardiff at the weekend has taken it out of me, and this weekend looks like a busy one as well, with an RSCM event on Saturday, as well as a support group meeting, hen on Sunday I have a LGSO rehearsal.

So True

Today's Meaning of Lila

It may not be an Audi convertible that I lust after, but it sees there is so much that is just out f my financial grasp, and at the moment little hope of my situation getting any better in the foreseeable future. Ho hum said Poo.........................

Gone Fishing

Earlier I mentioned that I was wearing a pair of fishnet tights on Saturday evening, They would not have been my first choice, but given that all the other hosiery I took with me was at this point gently spinning in the washing machine, they were the least appropriate hosiery I had available.

I think every Girl should have at least one pair of fishnets in her wardrobe, that way she always has the choice not to wear them!  I have been known to wear fishnets under trousers so that the ankles and feet are showing but not the legs, this is a bit of a tease, suggesting what might be there but not showing.   Other wise I fear that the associations of fishnets with ladies of lose virtue is just to near the front of my mind to want to wear them out.   After all we do need to be careful about what signals our clothing gives to others, and I don't think that I want to be sending the signal that fishnets send to most men.

Earlier today I noticed a very well presented lady, in her middle years, very trim, nice smart black skirt suit with a red belt and a lovely pair or red high heeled pumps, as I got closer I realised that she was also wearing fishnets, it struck then and there how much nicer she would have looked with sheer, nearly black hose.   Somehow the fishnets gave what could and should have been a very stylish classy look an air of "posh tart".   Again maybe it is just me and that association I have but for me I don't want anyone to look at me and think what I thought today.

Will I ever wear it?

Over the weekend I tried a few looks including this LBD, this is the one that at least one of you thought was too short.   Teamed with fishnet tights and some pretty extreme heels I was inclined to agree.   I am now torn as to whether I should keep it - just in case I have an occasion to wear something this daring, or whether I should make the room in my wardrobe and pass it on to someone who could really rock it through a charity shop.

I do have a few things that I have found I don't wear, and don't think I will so I am now making up a parcel which I will take later this week, I just need to decide about this dress, I really like it, but would I wear it?

 

Yesterday on my way to drop off my friend B after work I stopped at the bank to get some cash, when I got back to the van and started her up, the oil light stayed on.   I was surprised since it's only a couple of months since we changed the oil and gave her a service, now I know about these things, I don't want to drive a vehicle with a potential lack of oil pressure, so I stopped the engine, we checked the oil level, checked the connections on the sensor and everything else we could check.   Got back in and started the engine again, the light still stayed on, I revved the engine a little to build pressure, the light stayed on.   In the eighteen months I've had this van it's the first time this has happened, the light is a little yellow oil can and a spanner.

Thinking about it we wondered if it might be a service light, so we drove gently back to B's house and checked on the good old interweb, yes it's a service light, and it can easily be reset.   That was a big relieve, it's bad enough that I have to tax and insure it this month, if I had to have engine work done as well it could just about finish me off.

Small pleasures,~ notes from a Welsh Garden

My notes from Sunday morning

Sunday morning and I have the small joy of waking up with my nail polish still on, I will have to clean it off before I go to the hospital to visit Mum since it is such a bright red, I may be able to get away with a pale pink or pearl, but not red.   It seems silly that joy can come from such silly small things when we all know full well that femininity is not based of clothing, but something much deeper within, make up, clothes and all the rest of it are simply the current fashionable outward expressions of femininity, but sometimes they are all we have. 
 

There has been much discussion recently on a forum I am member of concerning the tricky problem of the farmers tan.   For me this is a serious problem, because I spend so much time outdoors  I will always end up with tan lines matching my clothes.   For me that is work clothes of cotton trouser and polo shirts, so pale and pastey  chest, legs, shoulders and upper arms and dark well-tanned fore arms to around two inches above the elbow.

Even though the weather has been pretty rotten so far this year I am already displaying the worst signs of the dreaded tan, my plan to counteract this is to every now and then strip down to much less coverage.   Saturday I spent some time in the garden wearing a pair of daisy dukes and a camisole top with spaghetti straps, I hope that if it is warm enough today (Sunday) to do the same.

As it happens Sunday was no as hot as Saturday so the sun did not beat quite as strongly on y bare shoulders, but then in the afternoon I did spend a little time sitting in the garden catching up on some admin work on the laptop, by then I had changed into a sleeveless summer dress, so still managed a bit of sun.

The pictures are just a few I took in Mum's garden, she has some lovely plants and a really strong design, it's just all got a little out of control

Pretty as a Picture

There should have been a couple of pictures with this mornings post, illustrating my ludicrous collections of nail polishes, this is another illustration of my weakness for buying "girlie" things.   I suspect that in some way my subconscious feels that buying something is the next best thing to being able to use / wear it.   That way I end up with far too many shoe, bras, nail polishes etc. etc. than I could ever need, if indeed I could be said to need any at all.

Fire Engine Red

This is the next post I prepared while away

On Saturday night I talked about being dressed up to the nines, for me this included nail polish. Regular readers will know about my love of polished nails.   Even when my nails are a little shorter than I would like nicely coloured nails are for me the epitome of femininity.    So on Saturday evening I was sat down with a bottle of nail polish and twenty bare nails.   It was only after I had painted all twenty that it struck me that the colour I had selected from my (far too large) collection was to all intents and purposes the same as the colour my Mother used to use on the rare occasions she dressed up.

When I was small it seemed to me that my Mother was a figure of absolute elegance and just a touch of glamour.   Certainly she had some very nice designer (or as they were known then “Model”) clothes.   Compared to these days both ladies and gentlemen had a lot less clothes, but very often what they did have was of better quality.   I remember Mum had one particularly nice grey woollen dress and coat suit that was of the first quality and wearing it she looked a million dollars.   On special occasions Mum would wear nail polish, and it was always that bright crimson colour so ingrained on my mind, I never remember her wearing any other colour!   I currently have something like nine or ten different colours.

Why do I remember this colour so vividly, was I even then wed to nail polish, no it is because it was Mum’s nail polish we used to re-paint our matchbox fire engines!

 

The scarlet colour had to be removed before I went in to see Mum early afternoon on Sunday, however I decided to push my luck and replaced it with a pearl polish, I also wore a mauve shirt blouse and some white high waisted baggy white linen trousers, along with some open toe low heel pumps which showed my bright red toe nails.   I knew that Mum would not notice anything amiss, but it was quite fun watching others having an internal debate as they noted my presentation.   I find that I have been increasingly pushing the boundaries, but effectively this was full femme apart from makeup and boobs.   I wonder what would happen (probably nothing) if I wore one of my favourite dresses but no make up, who would notice? who would care?

Just as well I was staying In

Panic Not, I've been away for the weekend staying at my Mother's.   Following a fall she is recovering in Hospital again, this time I trust that a proper support program will be put in place before she is discharged.   This has meant that while I have had a little more time and privacy than usual to dress, I have also been cut off from the Interweb!   Mum does not handle technology well, given that a steam iron is too complicated, and the TV only get turned on when my brother or I am there and want to watch some sport, the possibility of her ever having internet access is simply not on.

While there I did draft a couple of  posts so this where I start catching up.

Saturday night, and I’m all dressed up and nowhere to go.   I’m spending the weekend in Cardiff visiting Mum, but she is in hospital so I actually only get to see her for a couple of hours over the whole weekend.   Mum’s had  a couple of falls over the last week or so and she is in hospital until she is OK to come home, and hopefully they have worked out why she has had the falls.   This afternoon she was very confused and, although she seemed ok physically her mind was definitely not quite with the rest of us.   This evening she was much better after a rest, but I still think that she will now need to have some visiting support as an absolute minimum.

Given that Mum is now over 90 none of this is particularly surprising but none the less a concern for my brothers and me.

Because Mum is not at home it does mean that all evening I have the house to myself.    I took the opportunity to dress for dinner, my first thought was to go for a slightly risky cocktail look.   I suspect I actually ended up with something rather trashy, or tarty, with a dress far too short and heels a little high, along with, horror of horrors, fishnet tights.   On balance this is not a look I plan to take outside but none the less fun for an evening on my own.   But there’s the rub, “on my own” somehow it now feels silly and a little pointless glamming up and then just staying at home on my own.

There was a time, and not so long ago at that, when I was happy just to have a chance to try on a few female garments, now I get all dressed up and morn the fact that I am on my own and not showing off to others.   Am I some sort of exhibitionist or this just a natural inclination to society and a normal desire to “strut my stuff”   Whatever it is I am sitting here after a half decent dinner with a very acceptable Pinot Grigio dressed up to the nines but feeling slightly, yes only slightly sad about being on my own.