I'm so proud to be MoB
Hooray! Only two more days to go before it is 2007 and I'm getting very excited. Well it's not every year you become a titled lady. Yes, after years of unstinting hard work and devotion to duty I shall at long last be receiving some recognition.
Hooray! Only two more days to go before it is 2007 and I'm getting very excited.
Well it's not every year you become a titled lady. Yes, after years of unstinting hard work and devotion to duty I shall at long last be receiving some recognition. But before you start imagining me curtseying to her majesty at Buckingham Palace I think I should point out that much as I would love to be included in the New Year's Honours List - Dame Beverley Bowry certainly has a certain ring to it - the government has unfortunately overlooked me once again.
No, this particular title comes courtesy of my newly-engaged eldest daughter. When I told her how delighted I was that she saw fit to bestow this honour upon me she just smiled and said, 'But Mum, the fact I'm getting married means you become “Mother of the Bride” automatically'.
That remark has of course done nothing to dampen my enthusiasm. As far as I am concerned it's a very vital role and I'm pleased to say it appears I'm not the only one who thinks so. A recent reconnoitre of a bridal shop and wedding department of a high street store has revealed that us mums are allocated sections all of our own. Yes, it seems whole ranges of dresses, jackets, gloves, hats, handbags, shoes etc. have been designed for the sole purpose of ensuring that we do ourselves justice on our - I mean our daughters' - big day.
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All I can say is if fashion deems that I should wear a wonderful concoction of satin, feathers and lace then so be it. A peek at some of the price tags however has left me wishing I had paid a bit more attention in needlework classes at school. Oh, I made a few things in my youth but I get the feeling that producing a bridal ensemble requires a bit more technical know-how than running up a mini skirt. And the last thing I need is to experience the same trouble inserting pockets as I did back then, especially if I am a typical MOB and I get a bit tearful. Believe me trying to dig for a hankie when your pockets are pointing backwards and not forwards can prove very tricky indeed.
Now if I could knit myself something that would be a completely different story. Give me a pair of needles and some wool and I can rustle up all sorts of things. Somehow though I don't think a two-piece in garter stitch with raglan sleeves would have quite the required look, especially not in June.
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So it seems as if I am destined to trawl the shops until I find the perfect outfit. Not only that, but I shall also apparently have to confer constantly with other leading lady guests to ensure it does not clash with, or resemble anything they might be wearing.
Now in case you are wondering what part my hubby will be playing in all of this, he will of course be giving our daughter away, and making a speech.
I am sure you'll agree though, that his role in no way carries the same huge responsibility as mine. Not with so many shops, so much choice, and so little time.
I see that “Desperate Housewives” star Eva Longoria opened the Harrod's winter sale on Thursday . Apparently she was 'absolutely thrilled' to do it. Clearly she enjoys sales more than me. Frankly I am sick of them. Well, just how many sales can there be?
Here's ten for starters:
· Pre-season sales
· End-of-season sales
· Spring sales
· Summer sales
· Half-price sales
· One day sales
· Blue Cross (or some other colour) sales
· Closing down sales
· Not really closing down, but just re-branding sales.
· And of course the infamous January sales.
Okay I agree it's great to get a genuine bargain, but most sales nowadays seem to be just an excuse to get rid of a hotchpotch of surplus stock.
So you won't catch me rushing off to any unless they're being opened by someone like Eva, of course.
After 30-odd years of marriage - that's the number that's odd, not our marriage - hubby and I have accumulated large quantities of what can only be described as “stuff”.
This “stuff” can be found in all sorts of places, but predominantly it lives in our loft which hubby repeatedly informs me is full to bursting. Actually this is a bit of a standing joke in our house, but after struggling to gain access to our water tank the other day hubby was no longer laughing.
'Some of this “stuff” has really got to go', he panted, as he re-emerged red-faced through the hatch.
After calming him down, I agreed, a little hastily perhaps, that this could be our joint resolution for next year.
So it looks as if the pile of curtains gathered from various house moves, assortment of wooden and easy chairs, calor-gas oven from our long-gone beach hut, toys, high chair, pram and cot, ornaments, range of lamps, electrical equipment and other bric-a-brac is about to get a massive sort out.
Obviously it's going to be a hard job choosing what to keep and what to give away well, for me at least. Hubby, I know, would get rid of the lot if he could. But who is to say we won't ever need some of this “stuff”? Orange curtains with geometric brown patterns could quite easily become all the rage again one day. Do you reckon hubby would notice if I sneaked them into the wardrobe?