Tuesday, 3 March 2015

Jeans-gate and more

There's something about being a bit of a rebel that really appeals to me.

My mother's birthday lunch came and went with only the minimum of problems. This year it was mainly with my brother's wife, who comes under my category of 'difficult women' (along with my mother I might add). For instance, at one point she insisted that I should have rose wine because that's what she and my mother wanted in spite of my saying that I didn't like rose. My mother was fine with it and anyway I was paying half the bill, so why shouldn't I have what I wanted? She raised her eyebrows (well as much as anyone who's had botox can) several times at me. I couldn't care less what she/they wanted, I would have bought them a bottle for themselves, but the insistence that I had to drink it too was a bit much. I stood firm and ended up with rather a nice glass of Chenin Blanc. Result!

Then we had the usual complaints about the food (I swear she can't go anywhere without complaining at least once), the usual getting up from the table to give my brother a hug and kiss making sure everyone in the restaurant sees her (I kid you not), the inumerable times she shouts out 'darling' to my brother at every conceivable moment... ok, I'm going to leave it there, but suffice it to say these were the tip of the iceberg.

Yesterday my mother took me to lunch at The Reform Club in Pall Mall. It's a fantastic building with the most unbelievably beautiful glass dome in the ceiling. However, they might class themselves as full of 'traditional, progressive spirit' but that, friends, is as long as you're not wearing jeans... which of course I was. To cut a long story short, I was allowed in and allowed to eat lunch but not in the main dining room. And I had to keep my coat with me in case any of the fuddy duddies, sitting looking very uncomfortable in their suits, complained.

I thought it was hilarious, but my mother wasn't quite so relaxed and did mutter something about not being able to take me anywhere. There was one very funny moment when we were talking with the manager and a woman came up to me and said how much she loved my coat. She obviously wasn't fazed by my bejeaned legs at all.

So that was London and I'm pleased I got out of there without being thrown out of anywhere and without smacking anyone, even though I think it was touch and go on both counts!

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