Living in the Past

It is half term, it seems as if they only went back to school a couple of weeks ago, but I have my son's company for the week. He (the one who likes to remain nameless) graciously agreed to come to the supermarket with me in return for a lift into town afterwards. According to him we had no food in the house and he was starving, but in reality the fridge, freezer and cupboards were well stocked; he just had a yearning for junk food and cereal. Typical!


As we drove out of the supermarket I wondered aloud if the woman at the traffic lights seriously thought that off white, skin tight almost see through leggings with a short top was a good look. I answered myself with the thought that someone should buy her a mirror for Christmas!  The nameless one in the passenger seat laughed out loud, he said "Mum, you make me laugh you are always living in the past" He went on to tell me that I didn't understand fashion, that may be true but I am fairly sure the world is not ready for sights like that!


In a way he is right, I don't live in the past but I carry it with me. It only takes a word or a look, a sound or a smell to transport me back to the people and places of my past. Sometimes a smile or a guilty look from my son reminds me so much of his dad. The smell from the brewery takes me back to my earliest years when I used to go with my aunt to deliver the church magazine in the streets that are now long gone. The sight of magnolia blossom brings back memories of my college rooms with the beautiful magnolia tree near my window. 

I came across this photo recently, I remember going to the Odeon to see the Aristocats, it was a birthday treat for one of my best friends. Looking at the Ladybird shop next door reminded me how much I disliked shopping for clothes with my mum when I was little. She has always loved fashion, but even when I was tiny I detested frills and fuss. It was a battle of wills, my mum got me to try on countless outfits and I objected to every single one. Sometimes I got my own way, but more often my mum dressed me in the clothes she liked. Among the horrors that still haunt me was the seriously unflattering ruched swimming costume and a bright red wet look raincoat that made terrible noises every time I moved. The worst by far were the orange hot pants, unlike my mum I have never been a hot pants type of person! So maybe my son is right I don't understand fashion, but I do understand that there are some sights that the world will never be ready for!!