We had our flat warming party at the weekend––only one year after we moved in. On the ball, we are. Anyway, I had been thinking for ages about what to wear. I don’t host much so it needed to be something with a certain aplomb. I nipped home to Ireland for a brief visit a couple of weeks ago and what do you know the answer to my sartorial needs presented itself in my mum’s attic.
I saw it peeping out from a box of old curtains. My mum wore it when she used to go out to local dances as a girl, fifty years ago. She claims that, as the second oldest girl, she didn’t get out as much as her brothers. (Speaking of brothers, when I asked mine what he thought of my find, he replied, “It’s noticeable.”) Mum’s brothers didn’t want her tagging along with them and her older sister had no interest in going dancing. So Mum was stuck at home with the glamorous duty of feeding the pigs.