I got me a new top

Style wise, I could be described as low maintenance but actually that probably indicates a generally easy going approach to appearance and sartorial matters. Whereas I don’t even have an approach.

I’m not particularly proud of this but it doesn’t really bother me, my mum however despairs of me. I always had a fairly pared back look but in the past, before kids and country life, I did actually buy new clothes quite often, accessorize outfits with jewellery, paint my nails (occasionally) and pluck my eyebrows every few days. These days I dress for warmth and practicality but sometimes forget to even look in the mirror before leaving the house.

I do wear make up but it’s most definitely a natural look. On the rare occasions that I attempt to glam up, I try for smoky and mysterious but end up looking like Captain Jack Sparrow….


And 20 years ago I’d be perusing Top Shop and River Island but now I rarely buy clothes unless you can put them in a basket along with a bunch of bananas, a bottle of Prosecco and some bin bags. 

So last week I dropped the kids to school and was on my way to a work meeting. I had about 30 minutes to kill and typically trying to maximise my productivity, I thought I’d shoehorn in a weekly shop in record time. I often attempt to re-enact an episode of Supermarket Sweep in the local shops. I race up the aisles and do my own version of handbrake turns but using my foot to break up the speed as I go round the corners.

This time was a little different. I ran in and caught sight of myself in a mirror. I was not rocking the ‘muffin top and slightly too short top’ combo even though I had actually put on some make up. In desperation I grabbed a few tops and headed back to the mirror. I found one that worked over my polo neck and knowing that time was of the essence, kept it on, but with the tag out so I could scan myself at the checkout.

My shopping was fast but uneventful until the condiments aisle. Keeping up my demented pace to ensure I’d get to my appointment on time, meant that the trolley dash was now in full swing. Ketchup, tick. Mayo, tick. Salad dressing, tick. I was grabbing and chucking like a woman possessed.  I think I started to get a bit cocky/careless at this point and the next item missed. The fish sauce. Yep, fish sauce. Immediately the pungent aroma filled the air and to top it all off I’d managed to splash it all up the shelves as well.

So now I’ve got about 10 minutes to get to my meeting and I have to flag down a shop assistant while wearing a top I haven’t paid for as the entire shop is being slowly engulfed by the stench of a thousand tiny dead anchovies.

I couldn’t even make a quick getaway as I still had to try and swipe myself over the self service checkout trying to get the right angle for the scanner, until a friendly guy in his natty orange trimmed maroon aertex shirt came up proffering a pair of scissors.

It’s quite a nice top by the way…

Today’s earworm: Let it Go, as sung by a toddler

Last night’s different dinner score: 4 (v poor effort all round)


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