Rear View Mirrors Lingerie and Irn Bru

Last weekend I was summoned up to Newcastle to attend my niece-in-law's 50th birthday party. The invitation stressed that fancy dress was to be worn. What to wear? An excavation of the fancy dress drawer revealed that the hippy costume of genuine Brutus jeans and denim jacket had succumbed to that mysterious but common ailment of wardrobe shrinkage. Rousing the aged brain cells from their slumber I remembered that during a wardrobe clear-out in aid of the Lancashire Air Ambulance I had unearthed a "Jimmy Hat" - a scotch bonnet complete with a tasteful fringe of red hair. I also knew that my sister possessed a kilt which had belonged to one of my nephews. The fancy dress theme was settled!  I lacked a sporran but showing remarkable ingenuity, I performed a makeover on a nylon bumbag which I'd felt compelled to purchase but had never used - fate had clearly demonstrated stunning foresight!  The "sporran" lacked tassels but I gave it a true Scottish air by attaching 3 cans of Irn Bru. Braces, Pringle socks, suspenders and a wig from my amateur operatic days coordinated the ensemble perfectly. I was packing on the morning of the party when disaster struck. The "Jimmy Hat" was nowhere to be found! Doubtless it will turn up in an obvious place in the next few days. Inspiration came to the rescue magnificently. Now we are all told by the chattering classes that today's multicultural society embroiders life's rich tapestry. Kind and thoughtful friends, aware of my Telly Savalas appearance, had presented me with a rastafarian hat complete with dreadlocks. What better way to demonstrate the rich mix of cultures that makes up today's society! The costume was complete!

Confident in the sartorial elegance of my costume I set off, steeling myself for the usual trauma of the M6. I don't make a habit of regularly checking the Highway Code or every small bit of legislation passed by our Parliamentary representatives but I'm reasonably sure that rear view mirrors have not been abolished. Worryingly, an increasing proportion of the motoring public seem to have removed theirs. Life on the M6 north of Junction 32 is a constant battle to avoid being swiped into the fast lane without notice or even worse, being squeezed into no lane at all. Add the middle lane hoggers and those who seem to think that a slip road has priority and the drive up requires more weaving than the Bayeux Tapestry.

By some miracle I arrived  at my sisters unscathed. The search for the missing "Jimmy Hat" had delayed my departure so there wasn't much time left to assemble the, frankly stunning costume. I know it was stunning because my sainted sister was stunned when she saw it. She did recover her composure sufficiently to take the photograph above. Anyway, I digress. Followers of this blog will know by now that I digress quite frequently. There's nothing wrong with a little digress now and then and I propose to continue digressing. Life is often full of difficulties and I discovered another difficulty, namely that the kilt had also suffered wardrobe shrinkage. My blessed sister came to the rescue with 3 large safety pins to preserve my modesty.

The party went well and I received many favourable comments on my garb. I knew people liked it because they all smiled and some even lapsed into hysteria. It was a particularly cold night and despite not being a true Scot  I was conscious of a distinct draught that a prudent choice of Damart could have averted. My shivers were nothing compared to those of a brave soul who arrived wearing only his wife's underwear. I presume it was his wife's underwear else  someone's washing line is missing some very expensive lingerie. The next day was spent shivering and sneezing - I had most certainly got a chill in my sporran...