Random Jottings

Weekend Ramblings

Totally shattered today as I spent yesterday helping a friend, who has recently moved into a flat, sort out her belongings and unpack boxes.  When I realised that she had over 150 pairs of shoes alone, a fact with which I was not au fait before my reckless offer of aid, I blenched but ploughed on regardless and by the end of a long, hard day her bedroom was actually looking a bit better and we could see the floor, which I always think is a good thing.  While sorting out the heap I unearthed two tins of paint that she had mislaid, her cheque book, ditto and while sorting her handbags, all designer and dozens of them as well, emptied them all out and managed to accumulate quite a large stash of coins in various currencies and denominations.  I made sure that when I arrived I bought supper from Marks & Spencer plus a bar of chocolate to keep us going so it was a satisfying day but by the time I got home I was exhausted and fell into the bath (after filling it with hot water of course) and anointed myself lavishly with oil afterwards and crawled into bed.  Today I can hardly move and have had to remind myself, yet again, that I am NOT TWENTY ANY MORE and that my body cannot cope with what I used to do in the dim and distant past when I was in my salad days.

New job going well and everyone very friendly and helpful so one anxiety less.  The walk to and from the station is much easier than when I started as I get fitter, well fitter than I was though it would be difficult to be less, and I have managed to lose 4lbs in the last two weeks which is spurring me on to better things for The Wedding of the Year.  Looked locally today to see if I could see The Dress to go with The Coat but I think it is going to be hard to track down.  We shall see.

New booking period for Covent Garden is now upon me and the latest edition of their mag, House has just arrived, and I think I am going to book now for the new Don Carlos next year.  This is the grandest of all Verdi's operas and, as I have some vouchers left from birthday and Christmas, have decided to spend them on two stalls seats and take my friend Rosemary and we will live it up for the night and to hell with expense.

Two final things, have not had a crock of the day for a while so here are two, slightly battered but much loved cake stands for your delectation and delight.

And the other - I have not mentioned NEEDLE IN THE BLOOD by SARAH BOWER for at least a month and I am hastening to correct this omission now.  If you have not read this simply wonderful book yet, what are you waiting for?  Get thee hence and purchase...

September summing up

Every time I post my month's summing up it seems to be shorter and shorter a gap since the last report and the year is simply flying by.  Elaine's Personal Challenge which I began in January 2007 has been successful and because I set myself an achievable target (ie - one book a month written by a 21st century writer) I can feel pleased with myself that I have managed to get this far and be well in credit.  Over the next month or so, as it is winter and I tend to revert to biographies and history when the nights are dark (don't ask) I can allow my challenge to slip slightly if need be as I have already achieved my 12 books for this year.

This month, as in September, I actually found myself reading a novel on the Booker Longlist and while I enjoyed the Welsh Girl by Peter Ho Davis, though not as much as others, this month's Winne and Wolf by AN Wilson I found tedious and dull, despite the fact that large chunks of the book were to do with Wagner opera and Bayreuth which I thought would have me totally hooked.  Alas, no.  The September of Shiraz by Dalia Sofer, set in post Shah Iran was a sobering read; I was lucky enough to be sent a  copy of Speaking of Love, a first novel by Angela Young which I enjoyed very much, lots of murders and mystery including those by Ngaio Marsh, Margery Allingham and Reginald Hill, Captain Wentworth's diary by Amanda Grange and I look forward to that of Edmund from Mansfield Park coming up soon, a couple of Dick Francis, a fun mystery set in Italy, The Florentine Revenge by Cristabel Kent and finished up with In the Cage by Henry James, about which I have written at length.

Not so much time for reading once again this month as a new job has just started and am back to crashing out on the sofa when I arrive home, but as I had a huge chunk of the summer to devote to reading, I am not complaining.  Just have to make sure I carve out a little more time that is all as my To Be Read pile is now assuming the proportions of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  So is my ironing which is another story...

In the Cage

In the Cage by Henry James was published the same year as The Turn of the Screw and seems to have had to make way for its better known companion which is a shame, as this little book is a supreme example of James at his most elusive. a story where events and what might be, are hinted at rather than confirmed, and it is left to the reader's imagination to clothe events in sturdier garments.

I had started reading this, lost interest and patience with Henry's intricate and over long sentences with their commas, clauses and caveats and then, ashamed of myself, returned and and picked it up again.  I decided to go back to the beginning and this time, concentrate.  This is the key word with James - concentration.  Let your mind wander and you are lost.  No distractions to be allowed when reading Henry.

The unamed heroine of this book is in a cage, both literally and figuratively.  She works in a post office in Mayfair in the telegraph section.  She sits all day in her 'cage' receiving and sending telegrams on behalf of  Victorian London's upper class.  Telegrams fly backwards and forwards, sometimes several times a day from her clients, and they take no notice of the anonymous figure dealing with communications they seem to think are private, even they go through her hands and those of her fellow workers.

She is engaged to Mr Mudge who is a grocer.  No more need be said.  She knows that when she marries she will merely exchange one cage for another and she dreams of escape by developing an obsession for one of her customers, Captain Everard.  He is indulging in a dangerous affair with a married woman and through the endless streams of telegrams he sends to his lover, the girl is privy to all his secret assignations.  She imagines that he acknowledges her help and that they have an unspoken understanding.  She starts to walk  home from work past his house in the hope that she will meet him, and one day she does.  He recognises her and joins her for a walk in the park, she half hoping something will arise from this sudden intimacy, and half afraid of what she would do if it did.

"I've known perfectly that you knew I took trouble for you; and the knowledge has been for me, and I seemed to see it was for you, as if there was something - I don't know what to call it - between us"

We know she is living in a fantasy world and will marry Mr Mudge, settle down in the small house he has waiting for her, and her longing for escape from her fate will not happen.  But, she can dream. Of course, at the end of this evocative little masterpiece we learn that Captain Everard is a cad and a bounder and unworthy of her romantic dreaming, but he has given her life some colour and excitement before reality has to be faced.

In my previous post,  Regarding Henry, I said how difficult I found James to be and In the Cage was no different. One thing I will say, however, is that hard though it may be to read him I think, in the end, it is worthwhile.  I struggle with the subjunctives, the involved and convoluted sentences that are sometimes as long as a paragraph, but there is a beauty and rhythm in the writing which will creep up on the reader if you allow it.  I only realised this when I had read the last page and closed the cover.  Rather like a slow movement in a symphony that leaves you with quietude and satisfaction which you are not sure how to put into words.

I shall have to go away and think about this.

My copy of In the Cage was sent to me courtesy of the wonderful Hesperus Press and is a delight to have and to hold, as are all their publications.  A pleasure to own such books.

Thank you.

Heaven, I'm In Heaven....

"....and the cares that hung around me through the week

seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak

as we're out together dancing cheek to cheek"

Banish Big Brother, Xterminate the X-factor and get out the fake tan, the sequins, the hair spray, the tit tape, false eyelashes and killer heels - it's that time of the year again, yes it's BACK - Strictly Come Dancing has a preview on the Beeb this Saturday and then the contest proper starts the following week, so it will be voicemail on, curtains drawn, critical faculties and pencils sharpened (I am SUCH an expert of course) to mark down every stumble and trip and I will be in bliss until Christmas.

"Dance with me, I want my arms about you

the charms about you, will carry me through to..

Heaven, I'm in Heaven...."

We have the usual assortment of sportsmen, who always do very well, last two contests won by a cricketer, and the two runners up after Darren Gough and Mark 'gorgeous swivel hips' Ramprakash were an athlete and a rugby player respectively.  So this year we have aother ex-rugby player, and an ex-footballer (Oh how I would love to see Beckham take part in this!!!), a couple of tv presenters who I have never heard of, Stephanie Beacham who used to be in Dynasty and is a very vampish type (bet they team her with Brendan), the obligatory member of cast of East Enders, two models Kelly Brock and Penny Lancaster, who just happens to be the current Mrs Rod Stewart.  The last Mrs Rod Stewart appeared in the US version of the show so wonder who is trying to outdo who?

"Oh, I love to go out climbing and to scale the highest peak

but it doesn't thrill me half as much as dancing cheek to cheek"

No news on the judges but one assumes they will be Len, Craig, Bruno and Arlene with their usual barbed comments and insults and wonder if there is a sex god on here for Arlene to quiver over.  Last two series she has gone slightly cross eyed and all trembly over Colin Jackson and the aforementioned Mark R, but not quite sure that there is a candidate this year.  Still, there is no accounting for taste and she might just fall for WIllie Thorne, an ex-snooker player.  Mem: have you noticed that they are all exes of one kind or another?  Ex-East Enders, Ex-sportsman, one only hopes that Penny Lancaster is not due to become another Ex and go the previous way of Rod's ladies.  This show of course does boost one's flagging career and now celebs are gagging to be on it whereas the first series had to practically plead for people to appear.  That series I remember had Lesley Garrett in full 'I'm the Diva from Doncaster mode'  and she drove Len demented who told her to 'go take a chill pill'. That was the moment I fell in love with Len and my allegiance has never wavered.

So on with the motley and away we go.  I do hope Ian Waite gets a good partner this year and does not get booted out so soon, and that Brendan is booted out as soon as possible which will wipe that smug smile off his twerpish face, and that the lovely lovely Anton du Beck wins this time as he deserves it, if only for seemingly being the nicest man on the planet.

"Heaven, I'm in heaven....."

Warming to Edmund

My recent post about Amanda Grange's diaries of the male protagonists in Jane Austen asked if there were any more on the horizon and I made the comment that perhaps Edmund from Mansfield Park is not really interesting enough.  Amanda very kindly replied to my question and as it is such a full answer, I am printing it here again as it gives all the details of the book and also mounts a strong defence of Edmunds's character:

"Yes, the others are on the way. Edmund Bertram's Diary is out in November - Hale offer a 1/3 discount and free UK postage if you order from their website before the publication date ( http://www.halebooks.com ) - and I'm working on Colonel Brandon's Diary. I'm planning to write diaries for all the Austen heroes. I find it fascinating to look at the books from another point of view and I feel I've come to know the heroes a lot better as a result.

Edmund Bertram is a case in point. I see him differently now I've written his diary. He is a conscientious young man who's forced to look after his family and estate at the age of 22 when his father and brother go to Antigua. It's a lot of responsibility for a man of his age and it's not surprising that he develops the sides of his character as a result. He manages to keep the estate afloat and keep his family from any major disasters which, given the personalities of his brother and sisters, is no mean feat.

I also realised for the first time just how exciting Mansfield Park is. There's an elopement, a divorce, a scandal and a life-threatening illness, but because they affect Edmund rather than Fanny, who is safely in Portsmouth for much of the time, they're often told at second hand. In Edmund's Diary, however, they are naturally told at first hand, because it's Edmund who goes to look after Tom when he's ill and bring him home, it's Edmund who goes to London to try and trace Maria etc. I'm hoping the book will please fans of Mansfield Park, but also that it will please people who aren't all that fond of Mansfield Park. I hope it will show the book in a new light, and in particular, will show Edmund's strengths. I finished the book feeling that I really liked him".

I think Amanda is right and perhaps he has hidden depths.  His emotions are kept firmly under check most of the time and he only relaxes when he is talking to Fanny so it will be interesting to get his view on his infatuation with Mary Crawford and his gradual disillusionment when he realises how both she, and her brother Henry, have ruined his family.

Don't you love this gorgeous illustration of Mary playing the harp to Edmund....

Weekend Ramblings

My posting has been somewhat sporadic of late but as most of you will know by now, I have just started a new job in the City of London.  At the moment I am temping but in a few weeks I start a maternity contract for one of the PA's and this will last for six months and take me through to the Spring of 2008, when I will be 61 and will then sit and have a think about how much longer I wish to commute and work.  Of course, this decision will be, to a large extent, finance driven.  I have to earn enough money to keep me in books and opera tickets.  Big holidays abroad I can bear the loss of (I think) but not books and opera.  For the time being, however, life is settling down after a pretty traumatic summer and I am feeling better.

Yesterday I went up to London in search of wedding gear.  I found The Coat within half an hour of arriving in Oxford Street which staggered me as I had been expecting to be suffering from trench foot by the end of the day and nothing to show for it, but waltzed into Debenhams and there it was asking me to buy it.  A few weeks ago I had seen a simply gorgeous coat that I longed for in a glossy mag, but when I saw that it was Armani and its price would clear my mortgage, gave up on that idea.  This coat is practically the same, in fact it has probably been copied, and it is a fraction of the price and well within my budget.  Tried it on, looked great and ended up having a lovely chat with a friendly helpful sales lady and we discovered her husband's birthday was the same date as my daughter's wedding day so we promised to raise a glass to each other on 8 December.  She was wrapping up the coat in about ten feet of tissue paper when she asked 'Have you been collecting the vouchers in the Daily Mail?'  I looked totally blank and she told me that if I had a voucher from the Mail I would get a 20% discount.  As I have read the Mail for years in the teeth of severe opposition from my family who feign disgust at my taking this fascist right wing rag (their words not mine) only to discover I had missed these vouchers was extremely annoying.  I said so and then this delightful saleswoman leaned across the counter, took my hands and said 'It is for your daughter's wedding and you are a lovely lady so I am going to give you the discount anyway'.  I practically burst into tears on the spot.  How kind people can be.  The fact I had found a coat so easily and then have this happen, made me feel so light hearted and happy, it is difficult to describe how a small thing like this can have this effect, but it did.

Later on, when popping into Marks & Spencer for a quick gander and lurking amongst the knickers, as you do, I suddenly hear a shriek of 'ELAINE' from an old friend who I hadn't seen for a while, so we instantly repaired to a nearby hostelry for coffee and chat and spent the next hour yakking non stop. Great fun.

Another piece of excellent news this week was the promotion to the Managerial level of my other daughter, Kathryn.  She has worked so hard for this and I was thrilled to bits to hear about it.  The focus is so much on Helen and the wedding that it is simply wonderful that something like this has happened to Kathryn so that we have double rejoicing all round.

So a good week.  One fly in the ointment however and it is a serious one.  The week I started watching what I ate and am trying to shift a bit of flab pre-nuptials and what do you think happens?  I'll tell you what. A brand new franchise has opened slap bang by the exit and entrance to Liverpool Street Station that I now use twice a day and it is selling KRISPY KREME DONUTS. Yes, that's right those lovely yummy things oozing with jam or cream or custard or coffee sauce and which I adore and lust after.

It's all too much to bear..

Regarding Henry

Can someone explain to me why I have such a struggle with Henry James?  I love his writing, I love the period in which he has set his books, the characters and plots are both interesting and engage the reader’s attention, and yet and yet…

I have tried, really I have.  Many years ago I managed to start and finish Portrait of a Lady.  This might have had something to do with the fact that at the time, and I am talking many moons ago here, it was on  the BBC (can you imagine them serialising a James now?  Don’t think so) and Richard Chamberlain was cast as the consumptive Ralph.  This was the clincher of course. I was not that so precocious a teenager that I was a Jamesian, but I had just emerged from watching him as Dr Kildare and the chance to see him looking all romantic and gaunt was irresistible.  I therefore watched it for all the wrong reasons, but then became drawn in and went out and bought the book.  This was pre-video days and I remember being at a boyfriend’s flat the night the very last episode was being shown and I insisted on watching it.  As with the boyfriend who took me to Handel’s Semele, throughout which I slumbered gently (see earlier post on Handel opera), this one did not stay the course either. First one because I did not appreciate culture enough, the second because I did.  Sigh.

One of the most accessible of his works is Washington Square.  Those of you who have seen the simply  wonderful old movie, entitled The Heiress, starring Olivia de Haviland and Montgomery Clift with Ralph Richardson as the tyrannical father, need no introduction to this story.  I remember watching this one Saturday afternoon as an 11 year old, not realising that it was a book, and being riveted by it. The ending with Montgomery Clift banging on the front door and watching the lights in the house go out and know that he is being ignored and rejected is one of Hollywood's classic endings.

Next up was The Spoils of Poynton.  Another BBC dramatisation and I remember that it starred Gemma Jones who was the flavour of the month as she was starring in The Duchess of Duke Street at the time.  (Those of you spring chickens out there will probably remember her later as Mrs Dashwood in the film of Sense and Sensibility). She played Fleda Vetch (yes it is Fleda not Freda) in love with Owen who is in conflict with his mother over a houseful of precious antique furniture. I found this story more accessible (sorry to keep using this word), again I watched and then purchased the book, and I have to been honest and say I think it was mainly because of its length, more of a novella that I got through it successfully.

OK we have now reached The Bostonians.  Initially I did not wish to see this as the cast contained Vanessa Redgrave who I find, and always have done, an incredibly mannered actress. Recently she has popped up in the odd blockbuster or two such as Deep Impact and Mission Impossible where I thought she was truly dire.  You may say that she was going through the motions and was just treating these parts as fun, but I have seen her in plenty of other films where her roles were thoughtful and serious and I still found her style of acting off putting.  I appreciate this is a personal thing so no need to tell me how wonderful she is, I fully admit there will be a divergence of opinion.  I adore Maggie Smith and yet I know that some make the same charge of being mannered about her, so you pays your money and takes your choice. 

No, I will freely admit that the reason I watched this film was because of Christopher Reeve, the late lamented Superman, in a role that showed he was more than just a man who wore his pants outside his tights. He played a political conservative from Mississippi who falls in love with Verena Tarrant, a protégé of his cousin Oliver Chancellor (Redgrave) in the feminist movement. The story line concerns the battle between Ransom and Olive for Verena’s allegiance.  Again, I watched and then read. 

I also remember reading Daisy Miller, another shorter story, more a novella about the trials and tribulations of a young American girl in Europe on her travels and not knowing how to behave in accordance with the current society rules.  She came to a sad end to prove that you have to toe the line or ghastly things will happen to you.  Saw this film on TV with a very young Cybil Shepherd playing the free spirited Daisy.

The Turn of the Screw is another novella, but totally chilling and features a character beloved of novelists, the governess. She is in charge of two very weird children indeed and sees the ghosts of her predecessor, Miss Jessel and her lover, Peter Quint. (Not a huge fan of Britten, but I well remember being taken to see the opera version of this at Covent Garden with Peter Pears as Quint. Not exactly a fun evening but this was another boyfriend who was determined to introduce me to more culture………)

More recently we have had Wings of a Dove, set in Venice so of course I watched it, enjoyed, nipped out and bought a copy of the book, but came to a grinding halt.  It is still sitting there looking reproachfully at me from my bedside table but I think it is now going to graduate to my main shelves wherein repose some hundred or so to read when I have stopped work, am a lady of leisure and have time to devote to reading whenever I like.  Not sure if that day will ever arrive but I live in hope.

This weekend I am absolutely determined to finish reading In the Cage.  This was one of a lovely selection of books sent to me by Hesperus Press and though I have started it, still have to get to grips and find out what happens. It is not long so I should be able to do it. Hope to report on that soon.

This is turning into a long ramble but bear with me, nearly there.

My other knowledge of Henry comes from reading the biography and letters of Edith Wharton (Hermione Lee where art thou? I am going to read your book this winter I promise) with whom he had a curious friendship. As I understand it, from my admittedly limited knowledge, he seems to have viewed her with slight alarm as she swooped down on him, took him over and carted him on hair raising car journeys all over Europe and generally seemed to overpower him. No doubting that he adored her but the relationship was slightly marred by the success of her books and her standing in the literary world and he had to fight quite hard to stop feeling resentful that she was more famous than he . There is no arguing that Edith Wharton was influenced by James, they both inhabit and write about the same world, but whereas I have no trouble becoming totally absorbed in any of her books, I do have to concentrate with Henry. I sometimes think it is because his writing is, simply, perfect. Every sentence is structured so beautifully, every dot and comma in the right place, no extraneous verbs or adjectives. Perhaps perfection is too much for us?

But we are still back to the question I posed at the start of this post.  I have the same problem with Virginia Woolf as I have with Henry, try though I might. The esteemed Susan Hill started a Warming to Woolf  forum last year – is there anybody out there who could try a Heating up Henry equivalent?

Hans Christian Andersen

Not a brilliant photo but just an example of the delightful illustrations in this wonderful find

Tuesday Twitterings

Believe me, this IS a book blog, I promise you but over the last week my time for reading has practically vanished.  This may have something to do with the fact that I am back on the daily commute into London and the usual pattern of get up in morning, get ready, get on train, fall asleep, work, back on train, fall asleep, home, eat and fall asleep.  Put like that, the lifestyle is a tad less than riveting I feel.  Add a 20 minute walk to and from the office morning and evening and you can see that I am finding reading time somewhat difficult.  When I started commuting many moons ago I had all sorts of grand ideas about using the time on the train for books but within a week I realised it was not going to happen.

I must say, however, that the walk to work is taking me into parts of the city I had not seen for many years, if at all.  I end up cutting through Smithfield where there is a simply lovely church, and five minutes later came across a wall plaque commemorating William Wallace, who apparently was beheaded at Smithfield, and the rail in front of it is festooned with tartan ribbons and bunches of dried heather.  I intend to take my camera in with me this week and take some shots.  Also down the road is the fantastic Victorian gothic Prudential building designed by Arthur Waterhouse which really is worth a look at.  Years ago my mum and I used to go shopping at Gamages right next door.  No longer there now of course, knocked down but it was one of those lovely old fashioned stores with odd stairs and corners, knitting and embroidery silks cheek by jowl with Irish linen tea towels and crockery.  Just the place one would expect to find Miss Marple.  And talking of Miss Marple...

I have just spent the last few weeks working my way through all the Miss Marple DVD's which I have blogged about and I gather that this weekend there is another series of the appalling new Marple series with Geraldine McEwan.  At Bertram's Hotel is the one being shown on Sunday and according to the Radio Times "It's full of Christie's classic touches - Nazi war criminals, lesbians, a gay man in makeup, sex before marriage...er hang on a minute"  yes, the entire story has been taken to pieces and put back together again, which begs the question, why bother, why not just commission a new piece of drama?  This series has been truly dreadful and I shall not be wasting my time on Sunday night tuning in, I will probably be watching the last of my DVDs - Body in the Library and all will be right with the world. I have also just purchased the new biography of Dame Agatha Christie who I find a fascinating enigma and I am looking forward to tackling this door step size tome.

I have purchased a few other books as well, including the lovely Hans Christian Andersen illustrated by Whistler from Harwich Old Books, a new Victoria Clayton (formerly Victoria Walker and whose books for children have been reprinted by Fidra) and I have got hold of a copy of Death in a White Tie by Ngaio Marsh and a few others of hers nice and cheaply on Alibis and they are on their way.  I am getting stocked up for the winter just in case I get snowed in and the trains to London break down.

Ah, if wishes were horses beggars would ride........

Worried of Colchester

The Wedding of the Year is not too far away now and I am beginning to get slightly edgy about what to wear.  I have started the watching what I eat process today (am presently munching on grapes after eating chicken for supper and feeling very virtuous) and really could do with shifting about 10lbs before W day.

As it is a winter wedding, I have decided that the first thing to purchase is a gorgeous coat, one that will be great for The Day, but can be worn afterwards. Much though I would like to splash out on a super outfit for one day only, it is financially impracticable, so I have to marry Sense with Sensibility.  I have purchased a few glossy, fashion mags recently so I can have a look at what is coming up and all they do is fill me with despair.  If I was a stick insect or Victoria Beckham (though perhaps they are the one and same) I would have no difficulty whatsoever.  However, as a tall, well built woman, fairly generously endowed and, after two children, not exactly boasting a washboard tum, there seems to be a startling lack of choice.  Also, I gather that the colour this autumn is BLACK.  Ordinarily, I have no problem with this, I live in this colour most of the time, but for a wedding, no. 

However, log onto Mother of the Bride websites and there are some staggeringly appalling outfits which would make a middle aged mother look like an overdressed Christmas Tree. these on the left are the plainest ones I can find believe it or not.   Most of the models used for these outfits are only old enough to be mothers of a ten year old and should not be wearing these clothes anyway.  They do add a spurious glamour to their awfulness, but put them on the average BritMum and disaster will result.  Less is more in this case I feel.

As my keyboard fingers are getting a tad sore, I have decided to come up to London on Saturday (must be mad after commuting for five days, but I have no choice really) and to have a look around the stores.  I shall wear baggy old trousers and comfortable shoes and schlep around Oxford Street and beyond and see what I can see.  When I was younger I used to dress up when I went shopping as store assistants had a habit of looking down their noses at you as if you were something that had crawled in off the street if you were not looking soignée enough, but now I don't care.  Comfort is all and if I look like a bag lady, well tough.  Remember that scene in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts was turfed out of a shop on Rodeo Drive as she was wearing her trash gear, and she returned later, beautifully dressed and told them BIG mistake?  Love it. 

In the past when this has happened to me, and it did once in Harrods Food Hall, I got my own back by making the assistant cut me a minute piece of cheese, and charge it to my account (yes I had one once) and when she saw my double-barrelled name she became revoltingly obsequious.  Nothing posh about a hyphenated name; just means that two ancestors a while back decided to put them both together, that's all.  It is useful sometimes though.

So once the coat is bought, then the dress and that is where I will hit serious problems I know.  Still I will worry about that a bit later.  Let's get the coat first.  But then I have to worry about the hat, or not, the shoes, the tights, the make up. Oh dear it's all too much to bear...