"Magic Wands: Need They Have A Point?"
Jul. 26th, 2007 09:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chaletianCome closer, my chickadees, and I shall relate a tale. A tale of glamour, intrigue and romance. Okay, actually, there’s no romance. And it is, objectively speaking, a little light on intrigue. And the glamour is unmistakably missing. But other than that, it is a tale exactly as advertised.
It is a tale that begins last Saturday afternoon, at about five o’clock. I had slept off my early morning Harry Potter read, and was in Richmond, shopping. I had bopped around M&S’s sale, as one does, and decided to buy the previously-mentioned yellow-striped polo shirt. And then, fair readers, my eye fell upon a skirt. A navy, knee-length skirt, with a bow thing at the front and a few pleats. It was sort of like a netball skirt, except longer and less routinely pleated, and without the… actually, no. It was not at all like a netball skirt. Expunge that comparison from your minds. Anyway, I quite liked it. And being a creature of impulse, I bought it along with the yellow-striped polo shirt.
And now I’m having a quandary. I tried it on with the yellow-striped polo shirt, and decided it didn’t suit me (it is a trifle boxy, and as I am myself a trifle boxy, not to mention deplorably short on the old leg front, it was not a happy union of clothing and figure), and I would return it. But this morning, for some reason, I tried it on again with a red v-neck top suitable for the purposes of working like a trojan (don’t say a word), and my red shoes, and I decided it didn’t look too bad. I consulted Katie on the matter, and she agreed that all in all I could have looked more hideous. I am now at work, wearing my navy knee-length sort-of-pleated skirt. And I’m still not convinced. Obviously it’s too late to take it back now, but – oh, fiddle! What to do? What, as the constant cry goes, did Baby Jee do in the fit of a clothing crisis? When he stood in front of his little cupboard, deciding whether to wear the brown robes or the slightly shorter brown robes with the little twiddly red bit? What then, fair readers?
Having put aside this trauma for a moment, I shall embark upon another, not dissimilar tale. I braved the Monsoon sale last week on having a spare ten minutes at Waterloo, and purchased with my dwindling pennies a skirt and an evening top. The skirt has met with unqualified approval in the sartorial centre of my brain. The top failed at the first hurdle and I decided I would perforce have to take it back. Monsoon sale items must be returned within a week. I made my purchasal a week ago. I have forgotten to bring the top with me today. Katie, was the plan to take the Silverlink up to Camden this evening? Because if Monsoon is still open later in the evenings, I thought I might just train it into Waterloo, take the wretched thing back, and tube it up to Camden instead. But I shall see how late Monsoon is open.
Moving away from my clothing-related woe, last night saw the Guide trip to see Wicked, which more or less went off without a hitch, from my point of view. The Guides were all on time. N and H had their forms (N rather mysteriously so, given that her mother had denied all knowledge, but there you go), and R had left hers behind, but filled in a new one and her grandmother signed it. H realised whilst we were waiting for the train that she had left her glasses at home, but she rang up and her father brought them to the station in time, so we caught the planned train. Got to Victoria at about quarter to seven, and I let them roam free in WH Smiths for a while whilst we waited for Xanthe. Pobbled over to the theatre, where they all wanted to go to the loo, though unfortunately the theatre three-minutes was called, and I eventually had to go and hustle them a bit so we didn’t get stranded (not that it was going to happen and usually, of course, one ignores the theatre three-minutes as it is a giant lie, but on this occasion I was playing it safe). Wicked is, of course, made of win, and the girls seemed to enjoy it lots, and were reasonably well-behaved (though N and O could have won prizes for rustling at one stage, and R kept having to explain the plot to H). We got home without any bother, and at the stated time – huzzah! They all piled out at the end, and I wish I had told them beforehand that they needed to come and tell me who they were going home with, because none of them actually bothered, and we were peering around trying to see who was with whom.
So, I hope all the grown-ups enjoyed themselves! Tis a fabulous show, n’est-ce pas? Merci to Pimly for coming to Mortlake with me, and holding all my bits and not minding my bad temper, and merci to Katie for being the Other Grown-Up on the way home. In an evaluatey kind of way, did it work smoothly for those who went? If there was anything you thought I should have done, or shouldn’t have done, please could you let me know so I can fix it next time!
Steve tonight!!! Very excited, very excited indeed...
It is a tale that begins last Saturday afternoon, at about five o’clock. I had slept off my early morning Harry Potter read, and was in Richmond, shopping. I had bopped around M&S’s sale, as one does, and decided to buy the previously-mentioned yellow-striped polo shirt. And then, fair readers, my eye fell upon a skirt. A navy, knee-length skirt, with a bow thing at the front and a few pleats. It was sort of like a netball skirt, except longer and less routinely pleated, and without the… actually, no. It was not at all like a netball skirt. Expunge that comparison from your minds. Anyway, I quite liked it. And being a creature of impulse, I bought it along with the yellow-striped polo shirt.
And now I’m having a quandary. I tried it on with the yellow-striped polo shirt, and decided it didn’t suit me (it is a trifle boxy, and as I am myself a trifle boxy, not to mention deplorably short on the old leg front, it was not a happy union of clothing and figure), and I would return it. But this morning, for some reason, I tried it on again with a red v-neck top suitable for the purposes of working like a trojan (don’t say a word), and my red shoes, and I decided it didn’t look too bad. I consulted Katie on the matter, and she agreed that all in all I could have looked more hideous. I am now at work, wearing my navy knee-length sort-of-pleated skirt. And I’m still not convinced. Obviously it’s too late to take it back now, but – oh, fiddle! What to do? What, as the constant cry goes, did Baby Jee do in the fit of a clothing crisis? When he stood in front of his little cupboard, deciding whether to wear the brown robes or the slightly shorter brown robes with the little twiddly red bit? What then, fair readers?
Having put aside this trauma for a moment, I shall embark upon another, not dissimilar tale. I braved the Monsoon sale last week on having a spare ten minutes at Waterloo, and purchased with my dwindling pennies a skirt and an evening top. The skirt has met with unqualified approval in the sartorial centre of my brain. The top failed at the first hurdle and I decided I would perforce have to take it back. Monsoon sale items must be returned within a week. I made my purchasal a week ago. I have forgotten to bring the top with me today. Katie, was the plan to take the Silverlink up to Camden this evening? Because if Monsoon is still open later in the evenings, I thought I might just train it into Waterloo, take the wretched thing back, and tube it up to Camden instead. But I shall see how late Monsoon is open.
Moving away from my clothing-related woe, last night saw the Guide trip to see Wicked, which more or less went off without a hitch, from my point of view. The Guides were all on time. N and H had their forms (N rather mysteriously so, given that her mother had denied all knowledge, but there you go), and R had left hers behind, but filled in a new one and her grandmother signed it. H realised whilst we were waiting for the train that she had left her glasses at home, but she rang up and her father brought them to the station in time, so we caught the planned train. Got to Victoria at about quarter to seven, and I let them roam free in WH Smiths for a while whilst we waited for Xanthe. Pobbled over to the theatre, where they all wanted to go to the loo, though unfortunately the theatre three-minutes was called, and I eventually had to go and hustle them a bit so we didn’t get stranded (not that it was going to happen and usually, of course, one ignores the theatre three-minutes as it is a giant lie, but on this occasion I was playing it safe). Wicked is, of course, made of win, and the girls seemed to enjoy it lots, and were reasonably well-behaved (though N and O could have won prizes for rustling at one stage, and R kept having to explain the plot to H). We got home without any bother, and at the stated time – huzzah! They all piled out at the end, and I wish I had told them beforehand that they needed to come and tell me who they were going home with, because none of them actually bothered, and we were peering around trying to see who was with whom.
So, I hope all the grown-ups enjoyed themselves! Tis a fabulous show, n’est-ce pas? Merci to Pimly for coming to Mortlake with me, and holding all my bits and not minding my bad temper, and merci to Katie for being the Other Grown-Up on the way home. In an evaluatey kind of way, did it work smoothly for those who went? If there was anything you thought I should have done, or shouldn’t have done, please could you let me know so I can fix it next time!
Steve tonight!!! Very excited, very excited indeed...
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 08:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:01 am (UTC)Possibly an earlier email containing the overall plan (where/when to meet etc)?
The other thing that occurs is: did someone have a First Aid kit?
But those are fairly ickle things & you are a fabby Guider.
xx
no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:12 am (UTC)2. Nope. My mentor-esque person said I didn't need one, which I presume from your question was el giant fib?
Et merci. xxx
no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 06:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:26 am (UTC)The curse of the capslock comes to us all...
no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 10:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 10:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 10:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:11 am (UTC)Steve! Oh I am looking forward to hearing your reports!
no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:25 am (UTC)We shall tell all... *g*
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Date: 2007-07-26 09:33 am (UTC)Wicked is bloody marvy.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-26 09:43 am (UTC)OK tonight, time on tickets is 7.30pm but I don't think he'll be on before 9pm. I will prob get there approx 8.30pm as am meeting Heather E for a coffee beforehand but will just double-check we can still get in then via his MySpazz.