Rare and Racy

I've had a week of this, that and the other, odds and sods, doing all sorts but not quite finishing anything.

That's my winsome I know I'm a bit useless, please don't be cross pose.

Is it working?

I did achieve something; I managed to rescue this little critter from the clutches of Charlie the Killer Cat;

though getting a squirrel out from under my cooker and into a pet carrier was quite a task. 

Still, he seemed unharmed, enjoyed the grape I gave him, and scampered away when released in my neighbour's garden.

Charlie hasn't forgiven me. He's still looking at me as though I might be next on his Hit List.

1970s Modelly cotton dress - gift from Vanessa

Denim jacket and bangles - charity shopped

Boots - retail

1980s sunglasses - vintage shop

I spent today pottering around, food shopping and birthday present buying, with a wee bit of charity shopping too, of course.

I can't resist a vintage children's book.

A 1925 publication, with some gorgeous illustrations. It's a little foxed and battered, but that's OK; so am I. And we are both worth two quid of anyone's money.

When I met up with my university friends, I promised I would take some photos of our old haunts to send them. This may prove to be quite a project, since we all lived in various houses, and drank in a lot of different pubs.

So I started with the university, noting the survival of some buildings, and much change in others.

The Drama Studio, Arts Tower, and Firth Court.

Nearby Weston Park is a pretty place to wander.

Although The West End pub, in which I spent far too much time and money, is looking for a new landlord/lady.

Every student needs an independent record shop...
 

and Record Collector in Broomhill is still going strong.

And a secondhand book (and music) shop too...

so it's great to see Rare and Racy has survived. They play the oddest music, often incomprehensibly dissonant jazz, in the background. An old friend used to tell me I should just listen to it as sound, and not think of it as music, in a traditional sense..

I struggle with that. I am old-fashioned, and like a tune.

I love this frock, it's got darling Squirrel Miss V written all over it; feminine, pretty, floral, and sweet.

Hmm, well, I am not always sweet...

 but I am rare and racy.

Isn't it great when your faux lesbian girlfriend treats you to something pretty? Thanks, Patsy!

 

 I felt it was time for a gratuitous boob shot, what with the new bra...

 

 

and you all know I have no problems with making a Thomas Henry Titt of myself.

But now...

it's time for bed!

  xxxx

A grand day out

I had another child-free day out at the weekend.

I went to York with my old friend Patsy.

 

Selfies in the Museum Gardens!

My 20+ year friendship with Patsy is very forthright and honest. We have been taken for a lesbian couple on many occasions, which I think is because we do that affectionate bickering and teasing in which couples often engage.

 

And of course we laugh uproariously whenever that happens.

 

 

 

We've been on some great trips together over the years too. These photos are from holidays in the USA (1997) and Greece (1998).

 Saturday's location might not have been quite as far-flung, but York is still a fine place to visit.

 

 

There are beautiful sights and incredible buildings at every turn. 

 

Of course, the Minster is spectacular.

 

We enjoyed strolling the streets along with the many, many tourists, but really, we were on a mission.

 

Did I mention York has a lot of charity shops?

They're a bit pricey though. Out of nine - count them, nine - shops, I only bought one thing, a replacement sequin beret (my old one is getting decidedly ratty and I am thinking ahead to autumn.)

But I promised the nice man in the vintage section of the Sue Ryder shop I'd give them a mention. They have an upstairs room which is just like a vintage shop really, not ridiculously expensive, and very well stocked and displayed.

 

 The nearest I'm ever going to get to a wedding dress!

 

Now Patsy was kind enough to buy me an early birthday present from this shop;

 

 

 

and since I am impatient, I am wearing it today.

 

 

 

 

A delicious 1970s cotton dress in great colours and contrasting prints. I love it. 

 

 

And because Patsy is ridiculously generous, she marched me into Fenwicks to try on bras, and bought me this one. 

 

I do like a decent bra. 

 

I nearly flashed a little boy in the changing rooms, could have scarred him for life.

 

I had a really lovely day.

I was wrapped in a bubble of good humour and affection afterwards, sufficient to allow me to smile indulgently at all the extremely drunk people at York Station when I caught my train home. There had been a race meeting, and there were a lot of very rowdy folk, most of whom seemed to pile on my train. No one was being aggressive, it was all good-natured enough, but it's a good thing that I am not offended by swearing. 

Mind you, I have had previous experience of York station on a race day. I was with the kids, and we watched in amusement when a woman flashed her be-thonged backside at her friends who were on a departing train; in return, one of the women on the train then lifted her top and squashed her bare bosom against the window.

My kids' eyes were out on stalks. Mine too, actually. 

 

 

And I was worried about that little boy in the Fenwicks' changing room; in comparison, I am the epitome of ladylike dignity. 

 

 

 

No. You're mistaken. That's not me.

 

xxx

All day and all of the night(dress)

This week has flown by; not that I have achieved much, it's been lazy and rainy and unproductive.

Oh well.

 

 

 

I did go out with the kids today wearing this 1970s nightie.

I love it, and no one seemed to bat an eye. Naturally, if they had, it wouldn't have mattered. If wearing a nightdress out and about is good enough for Vix and Goody...

 

...then it's good enough for me.

Last chance to Vote Vix in the National Vintage Awards, by the way; voting ends at midnight on May 31st. She's still in the lead with a 120 vote cushion - do we think that's enough? Not that I've been obsessively checking, you understand, just showing a reasonable interest in my friend's success.

And I know she's only little, but she'll kick this Campaign Manager's arse if she doesn't win.

I've started making a pair of flares, with help from Willow. 

Yeah, thank for that, cat.

 

I'm not convinced they're going to either fit or flatter, but I'll let you know.

Owen and Nina enjoyed our trip into town; Claudia had already headed off there with friends, and my offer to meet up was met with disdain and incredulity. I'd better get used to that, I suppose.

 

 

They wanted to know why I was taking a photo of this shop.

 

Fair question. 

 

This sex shop has been here for as long as I've lived in Sheffield (32 years), and my old university friends were reminiscing about going in there to buy a blow-up doll for a play. It's one of those details I had forgotten all about until they reminded me.

No one seems to know what happened to the doll afterwards...

 

 

 

I look so bloody stony-faced in every single photo today; I'm not in a bad mood, honest, I just cannot do the smiling-to-order thing. If you meet me In Real Life, I laugh all the time, really I do.

 

 

 

I dance a lot too. 

 

My kids would add that I sing constantly, and annoyingly.  They hiss Muuuum! People can hear you! at me when I sing in the street. Three guesses as to whether that stops me. Funnily enough, the singing appears to be more of a concern to them than the fact I am out in public in a nightdress.

 

1970s nightdress - gift from Emma Kate

Denim waistcoat, flowers and bangles - charity shopped

Sandals - retail (sale) 

 

 

I'll be taking my all-singing, all-dancing nightie and my hair flowers to Judith's Hat Attack and Patti's Visible Monday.

See, I can be organised. Sometimes.

 

Have a great weekend!

xxx

 

 

 

And you may ask yourself...well, how did I get here?

You know me and the dreaded post-event slump syndrome; I am struggling to drag my head down from the top of The Shard, and my heart back from the 1980s, and am feeling a little melancholy and reflective in the process.

 

 

 

 

 Bizarrely, I have developed a painful neck strain over the past couple of days; it's the price you pay for looking back, obviously.

Or it's the result of carrying my bag at the weekend, and a shitload of shopping on Sunday, take your pick.

Either way, thank goodness for Ibuprofen.

 

 

A delicate wisp of a 1970s frock in a soft watercolour print suits my delicate, wispy state of mind.

It came from my local hospice charity shop's Vintage Corner, which often has something tempting to offer.

 

 

Thankfully, they haven't put the prices up; the vintage Irish linen peacock tea towel, 1970-80s sheer blouse, Miracle pendant, and green plastic beads set me back the princely sum of a fiver. 

 

I consider that cheap therapy.

 

 

The kids are on half term holiday this week, so we did a spot of shopping, Nina admired the various souvenir dolls in the 50p box, and then we went to the cafe for a drink.

1970s sheer angel sleeve dress, denim jacket, belt, bangles and tights - charity shopped

Necklace - gift

Boots - retail (sale)

 

The tote bag was made by darling Tania from 1950s barkcloth and gingham - delicious!

So yes, I am settling back into my everyday existence after a sweet taste of the high life, and a large helping of nostalgia.

 

 

I suppose it's inevitable that a reunion like ours will stir up memories, and provoke reflections on the person I was then, who I am now, and whether there is someone else I might have been, an alternative path I might have taken to a different destination.

Generally, I think I am happier in my skin now than my younger self ever was. I spent a lot of time at university, and afterwards, feeling scared, inadequate and intimidated. I rarely feel like that now. I know what I'm worth.

 

A fiver spent in a charity shop and a cappuccino, apparently!

 

While I do agree with Socrates that an unexamined life is not worth living, one can have enough of navel-gazing (and I'm not going to compare my twenty-something belly to the almost-50, had three babies version...)

The here-and-now is where we live, isn't it? Better get busy enjoying it!

xxxx