Well, Ronnie the cat was back in action again this morning, my own personal but somewhat arbitrary alarm clock. I wondered downstairs bleary eyed, trying not to tread on Ronnie as he clowned around between the banisters, and did what every 40 something woman does on waking, headed for the bathroom. Morning routine of the middle aged. Have a wee, make sure all vital parts of anatomy functioning at least at basic level, have a cup of tea. With my parents it is have a wee, have a cup of tea, check the obituary pages of the local newspaper.
Anyway, back to this morning. As I opened the bathroom door I remembered that we don't have one at present. A couple of very nice men called Gary and Shane ripped it out yesterday. This was by prior arrangement you understand, and not the latest in some bizarre Norfolk craze whereby you go into people's homes in broad daylight and make off with an entire room. So Gary and Shane (not their real names) abandoned me at about 4.00pm yesterday with a cheery 'We'll be back in the morning love', leaving me with an empty shell where the peach bath, toilet and sink once stood. Don't get me wrong, I bore no emotional attachment to my old bathroom (who actually likes peach, the colour of nightmarish 80s bridesmaid dresses?) but I am quite keen on the concept of being able to go to the toilet and wash.
Fortunately we have a very old and not entirely functional toilet and wash basin upstairs so until the new bathroom is complete (anything up to 2 weeks apparently - where are DIY SOS when you need them?) that is what we shall have to use. We'll do our best in the hygiene department, but just to be on the safe side I wouldn't stand down-wind of the Harrison family for now.
Like it or not, clothes play a huge role in our every day lives, but for some they are obviously much more important than for others. I love clothes and have recently introduced a self imposed ban of a whole year on buying any new items. A bit draconian I know, but I am determined to save some money and make a bit of space in my wardrobe.
My husband, however, has a very different sartorial philosophy and to him clothes are purely functional. He wears them to keep cool/warm, to stay dry and to avoid being arrested, but he takes no pleasure in buying clothes or what he looks like in them.
I have recently had cause to look through photo albums of myself as a child, teenager and young adult. As a child of the 70s I look back and cringe at the flares, long pointed collars and unhealthy obsession with corduroy which dominated that decade. I had a lovely ensemble which managed to combine all of these; some green cord dungarees (worn with a flowery pointy collared blouse) bearing the slogan 'Have a nice day'. Well, I wasn't going to dressed like that was I?
My early teenage years were not kind to me in terms of looks. Big NHS glasses (you had no choice of frames in those days - they were designed with the sole purpose of making you look like you'd just got off the sunshine community coach and run away from your carer) and a series of what could only loosely be described as hair styles. There wasn't a whole lot of style going on, believe me.
The 90s coincided with my 20s and a time to experiment a bit more now that my mother no longer had a say in what I wore, how I had my hair. By the way, my son is only eight and we already seemed to have reached that stage in his life! The late 80s/early 90s was the era of Dallas and Dynasty, power dressing, city shorts and big hair. I thought I looked fab but when I see photos of myself from this time I just look like an extra from Columbo.
I am now 42 and can honestly say that I feel better about myself than I ever have done. I have found a style that I feel comfortable with, a haircut I love (apart from the grey bits) and I have perfected the art of putting on a bit of make-up without looking like the bride of Frankenstein.
So, I wonder what my 50s, 60s and beyond will bring in terms of fashion? All I can say to my nearest and dearest is that if I get a perm, have a blue rinse, start wearing floral skirts, pastels and beige or insist on putting tights on with sandals then please take me to one side and have a word. I will thank you for it and pay you most handsomely in British Home Stores vouchers.
