Emergency Clothes

I’ve been sorting the kids’ stuff out for our holiday today, trying desperately (but failing miserably) not to leave them with only ’emergency clothes’ to wear before we go.  My mum used to to do it when my brother and I were younger and she was in full washing and packing mode (sorry, Mum, but you did) and we were FORBIDDEN from wearing anything that we were taking away with us; as a result I used to look like a charity shop had thrown up on me.

On one memorable occasion when I was about ten, I went to my friend’s house and her trendy, older sister (who I really wanted to impress), snorted that I looked ‘interesting’; I was sporting a too tight, too short t-shirt with ‘Sesame Street’ or ‘Wombles’ or some other highly unfashionable and childish picture on the front (always a good look over puppy fat), holey, faded black leggings and a blue, cropped, crocheted jumper becominging draped over the emsemble.

The very fact that I can remember the outfit in such detail is indication in itself of the depth of this appalling example of child cruelty.

My mum had also packed all my summer shoes so to complete the look I stepped out (in public) in green, brocade, ‘granny’ slippers that I had never before worn because I had received them as a present (probably from my Gran) and detested with a passion.

This experience has obviously scarred me for life and I may well never get over it, but you can either fight how you were treated as a child or repeat the behaviour of your parents…so if you see my children in the next couple of weeks, please don’t snigger as they walk by in clothes three sizes too small, jumpers in the middle of July and slippers that have seen better days.  Just know that these are their emergency clothes and although, like me, they’ll probably have bitter memories at the age of thirty five too, at least they’re going to look great on holiday… 🙂