Parenthood

Small moments to savour on the parenthood journey …

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Sunday 19 March 2023

Mother’s day 2023, my card tells me that I ‘deserve to have the best day!‘ … and I do!

Why so great? Well for one, my eldest child pops home for the weekend. But for two, she takes me out for lunch! Yes, let me say that one again, very slowly; she takes me out. She books the table. She invites the guests. She organises the transport. She evens pays. I don’t have to do anything! Great restaurant, great company; it’s a treat I shall cherish.

Could this be, I ponder, the moment when I pass on the baton of ‘chief organiser and sorter-outer’ to the next generation? Probably not, but for today at least it is amazing, because I can tell you this. Child-rearing journey one relentless marathon. However, those of you with of small infants, do not despair! Just when you think you cannot take anymore and have hit your parental wall, take heart. Around every corner, come small life-saving moments to savour. After two decades of muddling through motherhood, here are mine

First the glory of cow’s milk, which arrives at the age of 12 months. It is ‘farewell’ to battling with breastfeeding and a grateful ‘goodbye’ to prepping the cursed formula bottles each evening; sterilising, scooping, measuring and mixing through eyes so weary they are propped open with matchsticks. The calendar shows that 1 year and passed and overnight, you are simply allowed to open the fridge and pour some milk into a beaker. Goodness gracious, it feels like a wondrous miracle!

Next for me; the end of nappies. I’m not going to lie, the potty training months are a tense time, but oh so worth it! As your toddler finally masters the art of using the loo, it is off to the tip for that dreadful device know as the ‘changing bag’! Once again, you step out with a swing in your step, no longer weighed down with nappies and wipes and bags and changes of clothes and ….oh, it is glorious. How did you not appreciate this simple pleasure before? And, from my viewpoint, even better is to come.

Probably one of my favourite moments of all. You feed and drag your child up to the magical mark of 135 cm and the car seat can go! It’s utterly liberating. One day, your life is a drudge of lifting and securing offspring’s arms and legs into complex arrays of straps and fasteners. The next you are just breezily shouting ‘time to go kids!‘, opening the car door and watching them climb in and sort themselves out. On the first few occasions, you’ll just stand there open mouthed with your car keys thinking, ‘Is that it, can I just set off?’ And ‘Hallelujah’ yes you can! A magnificent moment indeed.

High school also occurs around this time, bringing with it a surge in offspring independence. This one is a little double edged, but I shall start with the positives. Let’s take a moment to appreciate the humble bus pass. Your children now get themselves to school. It is beyond fantastic. I’m a working mum and as I waved my youngest child off on the 472 in his new school blazer, my working life was about to transform. No longer tied to breakfast club opening times and after school club hours, I could just set off when it suited me. No longer shouting at kids to ‘get through the bathroom’, ‘get dressed’ and ‘get in the car‘, I could drive calmly to and from school thinking about the day ahead. I was consistently on time for the management meeting for the first time in 7 years, no longer stressed out about late pick-up fees, if I was caught in traffic at the end of the day. I thanked my lucky stars, felt incredulous at how much easier life seemed to be once more and marvelled at how many more hours there sere in each day.

As a cautionary note however, I did warn that the teenage years also bring their disadvantages in terms of your blossoming freedoms, and here they are. As your children advance through school and sixth-form, their social lives also take off, so, unless you have the pockets to keep your local Uber company in business, do be prepared for your duties as late night taxi service! I am currently in the midst of this one. Small boy and his considerable circle of friends are a very sociable lot and most weeks bring an enviable offering of outings, parties and general merrymaking for them. For me, alas, it means too many evening when the cherished glass of red has to be replaced by a consolation cup of tea. I suppose eventually they’ll all learn to drive and get cars!

Looking back, I cannot actually believe I made it to this stage, particularly as I did most of it on my own. Well, to be fair that’s not quite true, for 7 years I did have my ‘pretty nice guy’ to keep me sane! He may never have helped out much with the kids but he did remind me that motherhood was not the only thing I was. You’ll find, young mothers in particular, that people stop asking ‘how are you?’ and replace it with ‘how are the kids?’. It’s okay to a point but you can start to feel a bit invisible so I am very thankful that I did have an adult companion for many great adventures and crazy capers, during the toughest of the child-raising years too! I definitely stopped me going under

So, add a few dates nights into your survival notes too! But I’m now dreaming of the day when all my trio can drive me around for a change so I’ll end my post there. I’m off to sign Small boy up for his provisional licence….

Could it be love?

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Saturday 11 March 2023

There’s been a new man in my life for a few months now and I think I might be falling…

Oh Erik Ten Hag! The artful Dutchman, who has brought pride, respectability and a whole lot of happiness back into the lives of beleaguered Manchester United fan, may well have stolen my heart!

Did he have me at United’s return to winning ways? Let’s just look: currently third in the Premier League, winners of the EFLcup (a first trophy in 6 years), into the last 16 of the Europa League after knocking out the mighty Barcelona. Well it is undeniably a great start! Like many other fans, after years in isolation, I am able to venture back onto Twitter, risk an occasional bit of work-based footie banter and dare to tune into Match of the Day. (Not this week of course – #standbygary in our house, but that’s a story for another day.)

But my feelings have moved beyond mere gratitude for this glimpse of glory. The man is strong and principled; dare I say the managerial equivalent of a ‘super dad’. He is undeniably tough but he improves players and motivates them by communicating trust in their abilities. And I like that.

The standout example- the glorious resurgence of Marcus Rashford. After woeful form in the previous season, Rashford was dropped from the national squad and late Summer 2022 saw rumours of a move from Old Trafford. Ten Hag however, said ‘no question’ of a player of this quality being sold. And, if we believe the MEN, he is also quoted with this line

“…he knows I love him, he knows I want him to be here so I will tell him that again!”

Whatever the truth of the exchange, Rashford stayed and the results have been phenomenal. As articulated recently in the Spanish press,

“ His numbers are frightening and the feeling he left at the Camp Nou is that of a striker capable of changing a game on his own. He shook the entire Barcelona defense and was pivotal to both United goals.”

But it was Ten Hag’s reaction to our “7-0 spanking at Anfield” (Gary Lineker), when I was finally slain. Against tidal wave of social media clamour for change, he kept the same team and the same captain for the next match. When explaining this decision in a post-match interview, Ten Hag explained

“... we played 23 games in a row with one loss and in the 24th game we had a huge defeat, but you can’t ignore the 22 games before, when this team played massive good…“

Oh be still my beating heart… the man understands performance statistics! A rare, rare quality in the sporting world which, despite an embarrassment of data riches, still favour a knee jerk reaction to the immediate in any ‘analysis’ and commentary. So, successful, decent, intelligent and numerate … Erik simply could be my ideal man!

Above all however, it is joyful once more for Small boy and I to watch United matches. Football has become ‘our thing’ again as we ‘trust in Erik’ and the team to put in a performance. If we spectate together on the TV, we have rituals, lucky hats and favoured chants. If Small boy is watching with friends, we message at goals. For one cup match and birthday present, when prices fell below three figures, I bought my son a ticket to a match with his friends. A nervous moment, fellow parents, watching your child head out unaccompanied into the Old Trafford cauldron but an an exciting rite of passage nonetheless. Small boy also unwrapped Ten Hag’s biography for this birthday and that sits ever-proudly on our mantlepiece, with Erik gazing wisely into the lounge.

So, for all of this, Erik Ten Hag, you currently eclipse all other sporting heroes in my head and heart. Will it last forever? I think it just might…

Those little pink lines …

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Saturday 25 February 2022

As it turns out, being ‘gruff and throaty’ was not, in fact, a credible nod to my ‘rock n’ roll’ lifestyle. Towards the end of the week, I test positive for covid-19…

Urghh! My throat and chest are pretty grim for most of the week and a raspy Joe Cocker teaching voice eventually packs up completely around noon on Friday, which is why someone hands me a (long forgotten) box of tests. I endure the cursed tonsil ticklers and a bit of nostril prodding and, within a minute, am staring at two distinctive pink lines. Bugger …

Sore larynx aside, I feel do okay which is a relief, I mean not sparkling but not too bad. I also know that isolation is no longer a legal requirement. Nonetheless, I have done the test and decide I’d feel pretty rubbish to be out and about in public knowing that I posed an infection threat. So I decide to cancel all weekend plans and … just lie low.

To my surprise, I really enjoy a rare day of idling and nothingness. No running, no shopping, no cleaning the bathroom, no tram rides into town. No, no no. I don’t even bother to get dressed! I do a bit of cooking but for most of the day I set absolutely no goals. Small boy brings me cups of tea, a cushion for my feet and the remote control and I re-watch Derry Girls, catch-up with Jane Eyre, and, well there’s no less cliched way to say it, sit still and let my crowded head get back into gear.

Apparently, there is also scientific proof, in a plethora of studies, that ‘doing nothing‘ is good for us. In many reports, such as Eating well’s, ‘The Legit Mental Health Benefits of Doing Nothing, According to Science‘ the definition of ‘doing nothing‘ is far more exacting than mine. There is no, smartphone, computer or TV Screen, even book reading it out! And what most studies find is that people tend to enjoy time to just sit and allow their thoughts to wander much more than they initially thought. This and other research also hints to additional gains such as, less stress, increased energy, enhanced creativity and improved abilities to resolve problems.

I think that my foggy brain is not fully in these lofty realms today. But, what I find I do enjoy, on my lazy Saturday, is just the time and space to reset and recharge. It is a day for being kind to myself and allowing a few hours to rest, relax and … breathe. And that feels luxurious.

So, I look forward to my voice returning and certainly wouldn’t wish corona virus on anyone, but I would recommend a day, or even a half hour, of putting your feet up, forgetting the to-do list and just allowing yourself to do nothing at all for a while…

You can’t do nothing all the time – it’d get pretty boring, pretty quickly. But carving out small windows where you can just sit down … and let yourself be is good for you, good for your brain … No more feeling guilty for a weekend spent doing nothing – it’s vital.

Out on a school night…

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Thursday 23 February 2023

… well it is my Birthday!

Yes, February is quite a month!

After Small boy’s party and a family flit to the North East for my eldest’s 21st , it is time for my birthday celebrations. My friend and I notice that Suzanne Vega is playing in town. We both had the album. We both know all the words. We both decide to go!

So what if it’s a work day! I leap into my car after work, pelt down the motorway to a handy tram stop and am in the city centre collecting the tickets by 6:30 pm. My friend treats me to pre-concert pizza … and calamari… and fries… and beer. It’s a little bit hasty, in fact we do have to run through the street, clutching a carboard tray, still dipping our hot crispy fries into mayonnaise. But we do make it on time!

The tickets; gosh they are far back and so, “shhh don’t tell but” after a (rather underwhelming) support art, we grab an interval drink and then sneak forward about 10 rows into a better pair of spare seats and wait …for Suzanne.

Oh, my word, she is amazing. Vega, a tiny slim figure, with her acoustic guitar is joined on stage by David Bowie’s guitarist Gerry Leonard, for a nostalgic trip through four decades of music. The sound, the music and the voice are just incredible. Its is like listening to the CD or vinyl again but with an extra richness and depth, that maybe 30 years of experience brings. She tells the audience the story behind some of the songs and then adds in the emotion as she performs them. And she is super cool. One hour in and and lean across to my companion to say,

“I’d like to be Suzanne…”

My friend, who has know me since I was 17, smiles kindly and pats my arm sympathetically before he whispers back.

“Look, she is from New York…I think they are just born sassy there…”

Ha ha ha! So, I guess I’m never going to be Suzanne Vega but I can,and do, sing the tunes all the way home, whereupon I treat myself to an overlarge whisky before collapsing into bed.

Next morning, I awake very gruff and throaty. I think it is going to be a long, long day … but absolutely worth it …

“And I finish up my coffee
And it’s time to catch the train…“

Half term …

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Saturday 18 February 2023

I do like a half term! A little bit like a the starter in a three course meal, or the John Lewis advert before a lengthy Christmas movie, it is the small perfectly formed feature of the school holiday calendar. Too short for procrastination and wasting time, there’s nothing for it but to have some great days out… even if all of mine seem to involve red wine!

Rest assured; I hold off on the Merlot until at least midday!

The days dawn with Duolingo! Despite much searching, I have admitted defeat in my quest to find a face to face German class and have instead downloaded the Duolingo app. Confess, I must, to a rapid descent into obsession… by day three, I am number two on the leader board. The top spot, well its only a matter of time…

My second morning quest; being a super-mum. Yes, Small boy and I have different half terms, and so I set my alarm, for 7:30 am each morning (still a luxurious lie-in) and run him to college. For me, this is actually quite a treat. When my trio were little, I did do some playground parent duties but ex-hub left when all three were under 8 and ever since, I’ve been fully-working, frantic mum, hurling primary-age kids into pre-school clubs, before tearing up the motorway to work and entrusting in the fate of their school travel to TfGM from the moment they hit high school. So this week, a relaxed start for us both, (some mornings we even manage breakfast) followed by a convivial chat on the 20 minute journey to lesson 1, makes us smile.

As the clock chimes noon however, it is often time for me to head out and catch-up with my fabulous friends. I do afternoon tea, in the middle of Manchester with a bottle of Montepulciano and whisky chasers. I do a tapas lunch with large glasses of Merlot and so much laughter that the waitress comes over to check that we are ok and to share the joke. And finally, oh finally I discover the newest delights of Oxford Road, when I meet one of my friends after work.

Firstly, there’s his snazzy new offices, amidst the eateries and mini outdoor ‘symphony’ space of Circle Square, after which we wander to Hatch, a lively set of bars and food stalls unashamedly housed below the concrete bridges and flyovers of the 20th century road system. We enjoy some lovely ‘natural wine’ and catch-up on on January news, before heading to astonishing Kimpton Tower Hotel.

Wow – the place is incredible. Housed in a magnificent terracotta Grade II–listed building, Kimpton Clocktower has a history that dates back to 1890, when the building first opened as The Refuge Assurance Company headquarters. Today, it’s a stylish hotel, with a killer bar. It gives me such ‘Raffles Hotel’ vibes that I reach for the cocktail menu and find, not a Singapore, but a ‘Salford Sling’. Utterly delicious and the Victorian architecture is so amazing that some small detail takes my attention every 5 minutes. I will definitely be back.

Regrettably, half term is now drawing to a close, so I shall also soon be back to work and the dreaded 6am wake-up call. Am I looking forward to that? I really cannot say that I am. Nonetheless, whilst there is still nothing to rival the sparkle and magic of my Christmas holiday, this was a really nice half-term and and a chance to remember that there is far more to life than ‘eat, sleep work, repeat’…

Birthday weekend…

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Thursday 8 February 2023

We’ve had some good double birthday celebrations over the years, but, as I wheel out an impressively full blue bin (glass and tins in these parts) for tomorrow’s collection, I have to admit that this year’s will go down as one of the best…

Step forward Small boy for birthday number one. My son, gallivanting swiftly through his teenage years, has a very large circle of very sociable friends. A few weeks ago, he brings me a cup of tea (ever a suspicious sign) as a softener for this request,

“Mum…I was wondering if I could have a party this year?’

Halfway between me thinking about it, and struggling to manage an overwhelming workload for my boss, I appear to have agreed. I warn my lovely neighbours, most of whom just laugh and say ‘where’s my invite?’ I stock up on snacks and beer. And, come party night, I head out for a meal, with one last fond look at my new cream sofa, leaving a nervous Small boy hopping about the empty hallway, wondering when his first guests might arrive.

I am back by 11, and the house is pulsating. I hear the party before I see it. And when I do open the door there are people … everywhere. In every room, on the stairs, in the garden. And…it is bloomin’ fantastic! Tipsy teens, I’ve known for years, greet me with affection and the intense conversations and rantings that only alcohol can inspire. There’s music and dancing, there’s singing, there’s even ‘beer pong’.

I party along for a while then, grab a couple of Peroni’s and head upstairs to locate my middle child, home from uni land for her siblings’ birthday celebrations. We sink our beers as she giggles through the party gossip. We pop down again to serve pizza and cake and listen to a raucous chorus of ‘Happy Birthday‘ as the clock strikes midnight and Small boy officially becomes ‘Birthday boy’ and thereafter, leave them to it. Most guests are gone by 1:30 am and I am asleep by 2.

The next day is a slow one for us all, but, on the plus side, I awake to find that the house had been tidied and so, after putting the hoover through its paces and vigorously mopping a very sticky kitchen floor, we are quickly back to normal. Which is just as well because a second birthday is now only 24 hours away.

Yes, my lovely eldest child, on hospital placement in Teesside, turns 21.

In honour of this landmark occasion, I leave work on time (for once), call in at home to collect Prom dress daughter, stop at the sixth-form college to pick up Small boy and then set the satnav for the North-East. We are there by 6:30 for present opening and then head out for a fantastic family meal at a local restaurant. It is huge fun; great food, great conversation and as for the shenanigans with our ‘affogato al cafe’, well my stomach still aches from the laughter.

All too soon, it is home time and its is a much quieter trip back along the A1 and M62.

Exhausting? Yes! Worth it… absolutely. Brilliant birthdays this year…

Holocaust Memorial Day

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Friday 27 January 2023

Holocaust Memorial Day; the international day on 27 January to remember the six million Jews murdered during the Holocaust, alongside the millions of other people killed under Nazi persecution of other groups and more recent genocides Why 27 January? Because this marks the anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, the largest Nazi death camp.

It is also my assembly week at work, so I find myself researching the stories and events in more detail than usual. This year’s theme is ‘ordinary people‘ …

The ‘ordinary people’ theme addresses the uncomfortable truth that genocide is carried out by ordinary people. Ordinary people turn a blind eye to hatred and injustice, ordinary people believe propaganda and ordinary people choose to join dangerous regimes. However, most of my assembly features the heartbreaking ordinariness of the victims, whose only crime of to have an identity that another group of people choose to persecute. The first is Anne Frank…

Anne Frank, famous for writing a diary of her family’s time in hiding is an attic in the Netherlands, has offered the world a unique view of the Holocaust and its impact on the Jewish community through the eyes of a child. In my assembly, however, this is not what we focus on. We look at Anne as an ordinary girl; a girl exactly like us.

Look at that pink diary, with its little lock. It is just the sort of journal I’d have loved at that age, as would my children! Anne was turning 13, the start of the teenage years when we all feel that ‘no-one understands us’ , this diary, a cherished birthday present, was to be a friend, a confidante, a space for private and special thoughts. This was her first entry

“I hope I shall be able to confide in you completely, as I have never been able to do in anyone before …”

Although the growing restrictions on her young life are soon evident and foreshadow the tragedy which is to unfold, Anne’s early entries are about: friendship issues, boys she likes and school work. And, for me, this insight into typical teenage life, a world full of innocence, hopes and dreams for the future, when I know what is to happen, because I’ve just listened to a survivor’s account of life in a concentration camp … just breaks me. Breaks me as a mum but, even more so, as a persons who too was once 13 with a lifetime of adventures and experiences ahead of her.

Secondly, we look at the life of Julius Hirsch, one of the three footballers honoured in the Holocaust Memorial outside Chelsea’s ground at Stamford Bridge.

Someone puts me onto football as a perfect source of interesting stories to help young people relate to the Holocaust. And there are many individuals I could have spoken about. Physical activity was an immediate target for the Nazis and from 1933, Jews were excluded from German sport and recreational facilities. In consequence, the Holocaust is said to have wiped out a generation of Jewish sporting talent. Julius Hirsch was one of them.

Julius, born in 1892, loved football and joined the Karlsruhe club at the age of 10. He was to go on to represent his country at the Olympic games, he was to go on to fight for Germany in WW1 and to be awarded the Iron Cross, he was to return to Karlsruhe as a football coach, he was, all recognise, a national hero, But, in our assembly we linger at the start. Because loving football and joining a club are what so many of us and our offspring will have done as ordinary children. Prom-dress daughter and Small Boy both joined a local football club, and we have a picture of my Eldest scoring a goal for the school team. It encapsulates the extent to which we are all so similar and makes the insanity of identity-based crimes seems incomprehensible and cruel.

Julius was also a great family man. He divorced his non-Jewish wife in 1939, to try and protect her and their ‘Mischling‘ children from persecution. For this reason, when the very country he represented on both the football field and the battle field deported him to Auschwitz, we have this painful quote from his daughter Esther, as she left him at Karlsruhe train station,

“It was a lovely day; to this day I don’t understand how the sun could have been shining. We didn’t believe that we would never see him again”

They were indeed never to see him again.

Just incredibly sad. My assembly research leaves me deeply moved and pondering why such senseless situations arise and continue to do so. We are all similar in so many ways and yet it is clearly all too easy to give space to fear, negativity and hatred of others, simply because of small differences.

I suppose the only answer is to turn our backs on indifference and apathy and find the courage to speak out. We are all ordinary people who can be extraordinary in our actions. We can all make decisions to challenge prejudice, stand up to hatred, to speak out against identity-based persecution. But, would we… do we?

Christmas Eve eve …

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23 December 2022

Amidst the pre-Christmas bustle, a few hours out in the tranqility of the nearby RHS gardens is a lovely change of pace…

This oasis of woodland, lakes and gardens is actually on my doorstep so, ‘how have I not been before?‘ Perhaps it is not only pre-Christmas weeks that get clogged up with busyness and stress?

Take this Autumn term for example; such a demanding one for me! High levels of absenteeism at work have resulted in everyone else’s workload becoming … quite frankly overwhelming. I have also had worries about my mum and, like everyone else, about spiralling bills and static wages. The only reason that none of it has kept me awake at night is, I reason,because I am permanently shattered and could fall asleep ‘on a dime.’

So few hours away from: gift wrap, shopping lists, decorations and tannoys blaring out ‘All I want for Christmas …’ for a peaceful stroll through the winter gardens is ideal. Our countryside and green places play a pivotal role in the preservation of our wildlife and ecosystem but there is also evidence that they also promote a sense of wellbeing for humans too. Plants have a long history of association with medicines and healing. Furthermore, in our modern world, we also increasingly acknowledge that gardens and green spaces are also associated with better social and mental health. To quote British physician Sir Muir Gray,

“…everyone needs a ‘Natural Health Service’ as well as a National Health Service.”

Well the visit certainly puts a smile on my face. Great company; easy chat and lots of laughter. Plus natural beauty and nature’s might and elegance to soothe the spirits and clear the troubled mind. I can also give a shout out for the scones in the cafe, which I polish off enthusiastically with my usual crazed- calorie trio of cream, jam…and butter! Revived and refreshed, I am ready again for last-minute gifts, the great Christmas Dinner spreadsheet and, yes, even Mariah…

All in all, I have had a lovely first week of holidays. Roll on yuletide festivities and week 2…

Erst…

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Saturday 17 December 2022

Erst it may well be a popular trendy restaurant in the Ancoats area of Manchester, but it is also the German word for ‘first’ and, on the first day of my Christmas holiday, it is a wonderful place to be taken for lunch. It’s also another beginning for me…I am out on a ‘first date’…eek!

So, to the restaurant!

The food is ‘small plates designed for sharing’ and it is delicious. Each individual dish is a treat but put them together and, oh my goodness, it is a taste sensation. We need a bit of help and the waitress is fantastic, advising of number of plates and recommending the ‘spectacular’ walnut flat bread, which is divine. To wash it all down, we choose a bottle of vin naturel and 1 o’ clock quickly becomes 2 o’clock and then 3. Fabulous company and fabulous ambience. The stresses and strains of a busy term and the worries of family life just melt away and I open the door to holiday, relaxation and the chance to have some fun.

Indeed; such as good time is had that we decide to move onto a bar …which gets a little messier with some very strong cocktails. ‘Galway girl‘, a potent mix of Limoncello and prosecco probably, is my downfall. But hey -ho… holidays are here! Even a hard working single parent is allowed to let her hair down every now and again?

I certainly come back to earth with a bump at the tram stop home where, with unbelievable timing, I run into Small Boy with not one, not two but about ten of his friends, all heading out for the night. He tells me later that I was unmistakably merry but seems to find it all quite funny.

Next morning, I find that in my cocktail-confused state, I have tapped in and out with so many different cards on the metro that my journey has proved quite a pricey one! I contact TfGM pleading ‘ an honest is utterly stupid mistake‘ and wait to see if they show mercy and refund some of my payments!

Even this aside, I certainly feel ready for the holidays with work most definitely off the agenda for a couple of weeks. As for my date; well it’s early days and I rarely share romantically on my blog … but could this be the ‘erst of many’?

We all get wider…

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Friday 18 November 2022

This week, I concede that none of us can stop the march of time….

Its all begins back in August, with the arrival of my niece’s wedding invitation,

“Dress code: black tie”

My offspring all hit the shops, finding finery and sharp suits that will also be worn for uni balls and (for Small boy) musician gigs. But for their old single mum…gosh it’s a good few years since I needed anything quite so formal! In fact I have to go as far back as my former (slightly more) glamorous life as a married woman, when ex-hub’s job occasionally afforded the occasion for a posh-frock.

“Hang on a tick” I cry, “I think the odd outfit may still be (gathering dust) in the wardrobe!”

And indeed two of them are, both, to shamelessly name drop, worn originally for royal occasions! One is brown and one … ahh one is a sumptuous green velvet number with a scalloped neckline and fitted floor length elegance!With great excitement I try it on and fall instantly in love with the gorgeous thing again. There is just one little snag….the zip refuses to proceed past my waist!

But ‘it’s only August’ think I! The wedding is months away and I resolve to trim back into a dress I previously wore in the previous millennium (and before children were even thought of.) I resolve to rediscover the body I had 25 years ago.

So, I run, I stretch and I scrunch. I spurn delicious buttered break-time toast, toil through the working day fuelled only by miserable sachets of cup-a-soup and track each morsel on a calorie checker app! Alas, none of it makes even an ounce of difference. So when I am out for a drink with an engineering friend, recounting my lack of progress, and he offers to ‘construct me’ back into the garment, I decide, after laughing fully out loud, that enough is quite enough. It is simply never going to happen! The figure I was in my late 20s just has to be consigned to the history books.

Is it of some comfort to read that the struggle to shift a few pounds for other women ‘of my age’ is a fairly common one? Why yes it is! Much is written on the subject and Everyday Health’s article ‘5 reasons its harder to lose weight with age‘ it typical in outlining: age-related muscle loss, hormonal changes, slowing metabolism, general busyness and lifestyle changes as key factors. I am also cheered by some findings too that a ‘bigger butt’ is also caused by widening pelvic bones. In summary, with a mixture of rueful regret and a fair dose of relief, I reason that accepting a changing shape is just all part of growing old gracefully.

So tonight, I have a final Friday night strut around the kitchen in my lovely green dress (clipped in with washing line pegs) before packing it away to donate to the local hospice. I also review the brown number, bought a good 10 years after the green and a hopeful dress size larger. It may not be quite as glamorous or ‘show stopping’, it may be the colour of my old school uniform, but it is still very nice, allows me to move, has a nice swirly skirt, ticks a re-use recycle box (I’ll possibly announce it as ‘vintage’ to sound a little more fashionable) and … it fastens! So bravo for the brown and wedding here we come…