Number only the sunny hours

I'm not usually in the city centre first thing in the morning, by which I mean about 9.15am; hardly the crack of dawn but early enough for it to be pleasantly quiet.

I was on my way to the charity shop to do the window display, and on a beautifully sunny morning, that wasn't a hardship at all. 

The Peace Gardens were heaving with people later in the day, but at this time, they were empty.

It felt positively tropical in  the Winter Gardens...

and there were elves in the trees and steel mobiles to boot.

The Congregational Chapel's gates were open, so I nipped in to look at the Fullard sculptures.

I think I have been all three of these figures...

but not today. I was child-free, not at all pissed off, and didn't need to run. Which was altogether A Very Good Thing.

And what did I wear during these sunny hours in Sheffield's city centre?

A new-to-me vintage frock, of course.

Don't you just love Ebay sellers who don't know very much about vintage? I frequently chuckle and shake my head at the 1980s dresses described as '50s, the bog-standard labels claimed as designer, the clothes listed as rare and unique that you've seen before, the repro styles being passed off as the real thing.

Yes, Ebay sellers - you've made me do this face. Which is usually reserved for the kids.

Still, this is a genuine vintage dress, although the seller had neglected to point out that it is practically transparent. A quick look at the label explains all; it's actually a 1960s beach cover-up by Slix, a British swimwear company who used to have a big factory in Derby.

Despite living about as far inland as it's possible to be in the UK, why let a small thing like that stop me from wearing a beach dress? With one of my many vintage slips underneath, I was good to go.

1960s Slix maxi beach dress - Ebay

Cardigan, shoes and bangles - charity shopped

1970s pendant - vintage fair

I match my garden.

I'm hoping the sunny hours continue, although I think I heard a forecast of rain on the way... Oh well. That's British summer time for you. Wear your beach dresses while you can, you can't be sure when you'll get another chance!

xxx

Culottes or not?

Most styles get recycled eventually, so it shouldn't be a surprise to learn that culottes are having another moment in the fashion-y sun.

I can't actually remember wearing any in the 1970s, and I really wasn't planning on wearing a pair now either.

I know - never say never...

My manager and a fellow volunteer at the charity shop put these late 1970s/early 1980s culottes aside for me. And despite being a bit dubious before I tried them, I find I like them.

Culottes (gauchos, divided skirts, whatever we're calling them) have been around for a long time.

Here are some examples from the 1930-40s...

the 1950-60s...

1970s...

and into the early-mid 1980s.

They adapted well throughout all these decades, then seemed to fall out of favour; who knows why? Fashion's fickle like that.

(I presume the woman on the bike wearing smart tweed culottes has her gas mask in that box.)

I think this St Michael pair are my favourites...

although the drapey green pair are blessed with pockets and a nicely shaped waistband. 

 Here are some of 2015's incarnations...

and look - mustard. How's that for coincidence?

1970-80s culottes, 1980s shirt, denim jacket, belt and bangles - charity shopped

1980s boots - Second to None

If you google culottes, you will find a lot of articles about how tricky they are to wear, and advising you on how you might possibly do so. 

My advice, should you want or need it (and I very much doubt that you do)? 

If you like them, just give them a go!

xxx

Some sunny day

A couple of weeks ago, it was the 70th anniversary of VE Day. 

Life during wartime is not an experience many of us have shared or can even imagine, but for people like my mum, it remains a powerful memory.

Here she is; Nurse Rhonie King. She worked at St James' Hospital in Balham, London.

She recently sent me two extracts copied from her diary kept at the time. 

This is from 1944, when she was 20;

The long wailing sirens sounded, warning everyone - an air raid alert... I was looking out of my third floor window [in the Nurses' Home] and heard a doodlebug* approaching our hospital. I prayed it would go over, but the engine cut out, it dipped, and I knew it would soon hit the earth. There was 15 seconds to find somewhere to lie flat and cover my head. Then an awful wait, followed by a shuddering explosion. 

The bomb had demolished one end of the hospital and a row of shops and houses. All our local favourites razed to the ground - the little cafe, the butcher's, grocer's, hairdressers, confectioners, tobacconists. Wards 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 were smashed and everything hung in tatters. It was utter chaos...

There was no time to be heartbroken or tired. More and more casualties came pouring in - crying, screaming, frightened, in terrible pain, shredded clothes, burnt skin, broken bones, blood and gaping wounds, and the all-pervading smell of gunpowder...

All night we worked and all next day, till we were exhausted. But it had to be done. 

(* A doodlebug was a V-1 flying bomb.)

                                                                                                     

                   

 The second extract contains her memories of VE Day itself; Mum was 21. When she and her friends came off duty in the evening, they headed to the West End to join the celebrations.

Once in Trafalgar Square, we were stunned by the noise and the brilliant lights, after so many years of total blackout... Now, here were neon signs flashing on many buildings, restaurants ablaze, coloured lights in all directions, theatres lit up. Searchlights picked out Nelson on his column... Fireworks exploded...[and] people shouted and roared, clapped and sang, cheered and hurrayed.

Along with everyone else, we danced and sang and cheered all the way up The Mall...Young men climbed lamposts waving flags, there was music all around, bagpipes, mouth organs and drums, groups of complete strangers linking arms, dancing, kissing, hugging, singing - anything to express joy.

At Buckingham Palace...thunderous cheering broke out as King George and Queen Elizabeth and the two princesses appeared on the balcony.

So somewhere in that vast elated crowd captured by the Pathe News film are my mum and her friends; every time I see it, I think perhaps I'll spot her, though I've seen it lots of times.

And as coincidence would have it, look what I rescued from the charity shop skip recently; a World War II gas mask in its original box. 

I know they aren't particularly rare, but I was sad to see it being thrown away, so I asked if I could take it and give it to school. Every year, the Y6 classes do a topic learning about World War II, and I thought it might make an interesting resource.

Mum went on to train as a midwife after the war, but eventually left nursing in the late 1940s to become a member of the Women's Land Army. 

Don't mess with a woman carrying a scythe!

My mum, like so many other of her generation, lived through so much hardship, destruction and misery. And how glad I am to be living a different life, in different times. 

1970s Miss Mary of Sweden dress, 1960s vinyl/tapestry bag, shoes, sunglasses and bangles - all charity shopped

This 1970s dress has a 1940s look about it, so it seemed a fitting tribute to my mum's wartime experiences.

Though I very much doubt she wore bright red, polka dots, or heart-shaped sunglasses.

Thank goodness I get to live in full colour!

xxxx

The only way is up

You don't need me to tell you that life is full of unexpected twists, turns and contrasts, and last week provided me with some perfect examples.

By birth, I am a country girl, but by inclination and choice, I'm happily urban. Still, I do appreciate living in a green city with plenty of parks and woodland to explore, and having the beauty of the Peak District on Sheffield's doorstep.

The Y1 trip to Ecclesall Woods was great; we made Andy Goldsworthy-inspired art, admired the bluebells, and enjoyed our picnic.

Negotiating public transport with 82 kids was a challenge, but one which was managed with aplomb. I am always full of admiration for the hard work and enthusiasm of the teaching staff with whom I volunteer. 

And the kids are pretty cool too!

There's no denying that I felt disappointed about missing out on the charity shop deputy manager post last week; however, there's been a further twist in that particular tale. 

I have been asked if I am interested in the same role but at a different shop, and I certainly am. I'll find out more next week, but there might just be a happy ending after all.

Claudia, Owen and Nina - everything charity shopped or hand-me-downs, apart from shoes

Me - 1970s top - gift from Vix

                 Silk palazzo pants - flea market

Denim jacket, 1960s bag, most bangles and 1970s tiger's eye pendant - charity shopped

Striped bangle - gift from Fiona

 Sandals - retail (sale)

So the kids have broken up for half term, it's a Bank Holiday weekend, and I think I've finally landed a job - let's go out and celebrate!

You can tell we were giddy...

Claudia and Nina - Selfie Queens.

A good night was had by all.

We're lucky to be able to hop on a bus at the end of the road, and head in one direction to find woods and countryside, in the other to access our city centre.

Extreme window cleaning is definitely not the job for me...

1970s St Michael shirt, suede waistcoat, shorts, sequin beret and shoes - charity shopped

Tights - gift 

 And while I am a committed dress and skirt lover, I do occasionally feel the need to ring the changes.

 Claudia says I'm pinching her style, she's been rocking the playsuit-and-tights look lately.

Naturally my version has some Seventies' influence going on.

Nothing wrong with learning from our kids, is there?

I think I'd better link this post to Judith's next Hat Attack, even though I'm early; I may not wear a hat again before June 1st, and I hate to miss it!

And now I'm off to follow the twists and turns in your lives - what's been happening?

xxxx

The morning after

I don't subscribe to the view that you should wear every item of clothing in your wardrobe x times a year (insert randomly prescribed frequency here) or get rid of it.

 

 

If I did, this skirt would be long gone; it was hidden on a hanger behind another skirt and I'd forgotten all about it. 

 

 

 I'm pleased to be reunited with those bathing beauties.

1980s skirt - Ebay

T-shirt, cardigan, tights, shoes, belt and bangles - charity shopped

 

Enough preamble; I guess you want to know about the result of my interview last week?

 

Alas, my feeling that all was not quite as it should be proved correct, and I didn't get the job. The feedback was positive, so that's something. Still, I'm disappointed, rejection is never a pleasant experience. It's been made a little easier to bear by the outrage expressed on my behalf by so many of my friends; fists have been shaken, feet stamped, and the swearing has been both epic and inventive.

 

I really do appreciate my friends!

 

 

 How about a little flamenco action to cheer myself up? Senor Sexy with the crazed glint in his eyes was another rescued item from the charity shop skip...

along with Nell Gwyn...

and Henry VIII with just three of his wives.

 

 

Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, and Katherine Parr, if you're wondering. 

Maybe Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves and Katherine Howard will show up next week.

 

 

And I couldn't turn down a vintage Thermos, floral tin or a 1960s Spirograph...

or this 1962 novel with the fabulous cover illustration.

 

 

That's Charlie's tail getting in the way. He's killed his first squirrel of the year. I have a feeling there will be many more deaths in our garden before the summer's out...

On patrol.

Minnie's strictly a Lidl cat food kinda gal.

I'm going on a school trip tomorrow as part of the team taking 90 children, aged 5-6, for a day of activities in Ecclesall Woods.

 

And that, my friends, is as much of a challenge as any interview, so wish me luck!

 

xxxx