I have reached my hundreth post today and it might not seem that significant to those who have been blogging longer than I, but its an achievement for me in my own little way since I had a gap of about three months from one post to another.. At the moment my office heating has given up the ghost , I have a pounding headache and Im shivvvvvvering.
Flicking through a newspaper suppliment this moring and there was a photo article concerning womens shoes for the festive fashion parade. Now I dont know what the fascination that women have with shoes I for one dont have it but I can kind of understand the phenomena but you are more or less likely to find me in a pair of new rocks rather than pumps.One of the many many pairs that was shown in the article hurdled me back to a time and place Id rather forget about.
I was seven years old, and it was a lazy hot summer. The community games where taking place, the usual sack, 3 legged and egg and spoon races took place with tug O war, Soccer and Rounders thrown in for variety and compatability. For the less sporting and more artistic; Art competitions, Talent competitions and a fancy dress competition. The First prize for the fancy dress was voucher for the local toy store and I had my eye on a fair few things there so I was determined it would be mine..
I told my mother I wanted to enter and as it was last minute notice I gave her she was not best prepared. 'What do you want to dress up as?', I thought about it for a minute, we had just returned from my Aunts in Essex in the uk and it was the mid 70s, Punk had exploded in England just as much as the plague of ladybugs and greenfly that summer. 'I want to be a punk rocker' So Mum went about her best , dressing me up like a punk, I remember her ripping the pockets a bit of an old denim skirt and putting a few safety pins in it. She backcombed my hair and put it in a side pony tail, I cant remember very much about the other clothes, the makeup I suppose it no different to what I wear today but the shoes... God the shoes!! High heal stilletos, white - no brilliant white and for some reason was given a small purse.
Instead of looking like the spitting angry youth of the day I ended up looking like a prostitute. When I got to the competition there were a dozen or so kids there, the old classics like Dracula, frankenstein and luke skywalker (someone in their karate suit with a light saber) where on parade but there was another girl there Amanda Mc Carthy who was dressed as another punk. She had it 'going on' in comparision to me saftey pins and chains everywhere , hair in pole spikes and leather jacket. I felt Crestfallen and knew she or either the rubiks cube would be lording it the next day in the toy store. Soon enough it came to 'parade' ourselves in front of the judges and all I can remember was this one guy nearly wetting himself he was laughing so much. Something was very wrong, I knew the kids with me where not dressed that humourously.. Unknownst to me the only person he could be laughing at was me, looking like a whooo -er. I won much to my suprise and in my innocence I thought I did look like a punk albeit a poorly dressed one. It was not until years later when my mother recanted the tale did I realize that I won it on the merits of beating the skywalker with myself being a streetwalker.Looking back it all made sense and the penny drops when I think of my 'costume' and those pole dancer heals.