I decided early this morning that it was folly to fight a battle that cannot be won so I hoisted mum into her paper knickers, pulled a red spotted blouse over her frizzy hair, zipped up some truly awful black trousers and took her sea side.
It was a lovely morning though, sunlight, windless. After parking up for free in Sainsbury's disabled patch mum and me settled into our traipse down to the front...Passing on the way, charity shops, post office and Boots the chemist wherein much later I questioned the No;7 assistant about my 'perfect' match foundation so quickly shoved into my hands several weeks ago by an assistant in the Colchester branch...
More on that later.
First stop TK Maxx where mum and I licked our lips at the sight and feel of so many luscious handbags. Gorgeous or what. I saw a few dozen I liked, mum seeing only five. Dazing and feeling our way around the racks of leather goods I had a little thought 'wouldn't it be good to find a similar bag for a fraction of the price'...
After a while we left TKMaxx bagless heading to place where we could afford ALL the bags. Primark. It was stuffed. With women and bags.
Mum oohed as I drove her around the shelves passing 'reduced' blouses and short socks. We came to the handbags.
Oh dear. I am I'm afraid to say somewhat of a snob when it comes to le sacs. My preference is for leather and Primark don't do leather but as I wheeled mum from the awful brick sized purses to the tat jewellry a college of satchels nearly had me eye out.
Bang into them I went (compensation?) their plastic smell nearly making me gag but there was warmth and kinship in the satchels so I threw one on me shoulder.
And as if by magick I was 14 again...
Looking in the mirror this and that way I stroked the made in China monstrosity wondering if it was the menopause that was causing the interest in this too bad bag.
"You like that don't you?" interrupted Mother
"I think I do" and with that mark of madness I put the satchel on mum's lap telling her not to drop it.
A far cry from the mega pounds price tags in TKMaxx.
One must always be true to thyself and one should always buy one's bags according to one's dosh. I'm not money rich so I queued and handed over £9 to June on the till.
And then bustle bustle back to the high street where a stop at the No;7 counter in Boots was called for. Grrrr.
A while ago in Colchester, an overblown sort representing No;7 sold me a 'perfect' foundation. Soft Rose. For ageing skin. Cheek...At the time I was suspicious, she was too quick and seemed miles away but idiotically I bought it anyway, being British and not wishing to argue, and I wore it but it never felt right..
I persevered because it cost a lot. Today though I tried again.
Lauren, the young advisor looked astonished when I told her about the Soft Rose given to me by the sort in Colchester "Oh no" she said and went on to match me the right foundation. Soft Vanilla... And during the ensuing consultation offering a free bottle of foundation in reparation for the terrible colour injustice suffered by a loyal Boots customer.
Lauren was lovely.
And so feeling very happy indeed mum and me went to Poundland.
Fifteen minutes and three pounds later we emerged with biscuits, a book about serial killers and nice tin of vaseline.
Post Office for pension.
British Heart foundation shop. A dark brown squashy pvc bag for mum. Woman on till a dead ringer for Lotte Lenya.
Out and into the lunchtime sun.
I was feeling ok. Make Up sorted, mum uncomplaining, my jaw not hurting as much. It's been a real pain lately a touch of the old TMJ again methinks. I've been envisaging useless exercises then being planked on an operating table again where the Mr Surgeon makes an incision and does a bit of poking around. The last time had TMJ was a decade ago and I'm afraid to say it's RETURNED. I will of course be an idiot and put up with it until my teeth fall out due to not being able to insert a toothbrush into my slit of a mouth. The worst aspect about Temporomandibular Joint Dysfunction is the not being able to enjoy anything remotely hard.
Home to softness in the form of soggy fries. But this morning was a good un, I wasn't stressed and mother remained 'dry'.
A nice day out.
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