Whenever, Wear-ever

Time to rattle the odd cage, I guess. Let’s play a game of “Let’s-see-who-reads-things-properly-and-doesn’t-go-off-in-a-huff-after-one-sentence”…

Okay, so we finally got some nice weather and people are digging out their summer clothes. Now, do not expect me to bang on about what people should or shouldn’t wear. Obviously, I have to cover up from the sun but that’s my issue. So, do I choose to wear tiny shorts and spaghetti strap tops? No, I don’t, and true, for me, it is as much about modesty as it is about keeping evil sunshine off me… But does that mean I’m going to rail against anybody who does choose to wear that? No! Let me get on with my thing, I’ll let you get on with yours. End of story – no backlash required, thank you!

I don’t know why everyone gets so worked up about clothes… And by that, I mean how they are the perennial excuse for treating someone in a certain way, based on what they’re wearing in one snapshot of time when we see them. I always remember a colleague asking the circumstances of a family we both knew. Her comment was: “Well, I’d hate to think that someone was needy if they’re actually just badly dressed.”

But there is an alarming aspect about this, which is an issue (shocker!) with women, rarely with men. There is the old thing about dressing for safety. You know what I mean… ‘Oh look what she’s wearing’.

I’m afraid that defence doesn’t wash and funny how that only seemingly applies to women.

So for argument’s sake, let’s say a bloke decided to walk around wearing a T-shirt with a target on the front and on the back it said: ‘please shoot me’… I think we’ve all been brought up to know that responding to that message and acting upon it would not be a good idea.

I mean, does anybody put on a T-shirt like that thinking “Oh, I think I’ll put on my target T-shirt. I wonder if anybody will shoot me today?!”

No, they probably put it on because it’s a cute top and it’s comfy et cetera.

However, there is a dark side to this. Chances are that somewhere in the hundreds/thousands of people that person may meet/bump into today, there will be that one person who doesn’t get the joke. For them, the message is real, and they have their own interpretation. And they will act upon it.

Does that mean he can never ever wear that top again? No, of course not. But he just needs to be aware (if you need to be aware at all) that in those thousands, there might be that one sicko who’ll misinterpret the message of what he’s wearing. And act upon it.

And of course don’t forget the power of the fashion industry image: telling him that he should wear that ‘inflammatory’ top because it’s the thing to wear this month.

After all, how often have you seen someone in the middle of a heatwave wearing tiny shorts, a tiny top and them big, massive furry boots..?

Or tottering around in a tiny, tiny skirt and an even tinier top without a coat on, in the middle of December and complaining about the cold?


All the guys who wear jeans that seem to be permanently heading for the knees, and as they walk along, they’re constantly fighting with gravity? Clue, guys: gravity will always win. Sadly that also applies to girls. Eventually.

I mean, I’ve seen guys and girls wearing shirts saying “Bite  Me”. Tempting, but no thank you. Thankfully, I have the good sense to understand that they decided to wear that top because it’s cute/comfy/funny. They’re not wearing it as an open invitation to all vampires.

And I’m not going to treat it as such!


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Smart move.

If at first you don’t succeed…

…Don’t try bungee jumping.

Wow, there are so many variations on that one, isn’t there?

  • … Skydiving is not for you
  • … just do it the way your parent/spouse told you to do it
  • … cheat
  • … lower your standards

And then of course, my personal favourite as a child was

  • … you’ll end up in the [poop]

Now, you know what a literal person I am: If someone says to me “Hold your tongue”, I probably will do exactly that. The reason for my version of that particular adage is also literal…

Growing up in the wilds of West Wales, there were lots of things we didn’t see that ‘city folks’ (anyone living somewhere with more than 10,000 people) took for granted.  On the flip side, we were surrounded by lots of things normally tucked away and hidden from them.  Animals, fields….

Fresh air.

Or, in this case, not so fresh air.  At the bottom of my garden was the local sewage processing plant. We thought it great fun to do our version of a tightrope walk across the very narrow borders between the ever-flowing effluent. Not everyone made it across every time.  I have no idea why pigs are supposed to be happy in that stuff.

Okay, so I’ve used 3 words to describe it so far: poop, sewage, effluent, and stuff. Okay, that’s four. But at least I have a reasonable vocabulary. There was, of course, one word for ‘it’ that was never allowed. You know, the one that rhymes with ‘it’…!

Like most homes, we have our own bank of euphemisms for everything (the hubby still can’t get his head around my calling a remote control a ‘dit’). My friend’s family used the phrase “S. H. One. T”.  Our house word was ‘tish‘.  Which was great, up to a point.

Mother loved soap operas.  Oh, how she adored them.  Every time I went home to visit, she would ask me if I had heard about the horrible fate of a Mrs So-and-So, and then went into a description so vivid that I felt like I was there, feeling every ghastly bump and groan as the ill-fated Mrs S met her grisly end. And then of course just before I’d ask about the funeral, I’d realise that she was actually talking about some soap character. I swear that woman memorised the licence plates of every single black taxi in Eastenders.

But back to the poop. One of her favourites ‘back in the day’, when there were only a handful to choose from, was Crossroads (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8s26Pk-gkk), which featured a character called…. wait for it…

Wait for it…


That in itself was hilarious enough, but one line is forever etched into my memory.  The poor woman was having an extremely busy time of it, snowed under by lots of something that has since been forgotten, overshadowed and subsequently erased by this one glorious line, muttered (I think) by the owner of the Crossroads Motel:

“Poor Tish! She’s up to her eyes in it!”

Clearly some people should steer clear of sewage processing plants…. and skydiving.


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