It’s October – it must be clothes-swap time.
The girls and I had a clothes swap on Friday. These are fantastic events – held, on average, twice a year, when we swap our clothes over for the change of season.
As you pull all your last-winter or last-spring clothes out of their storage packs and try them on, you find that some things no longer fit – you’ve gained weight or lost weight, or you’re just fed-up with the thing and fancy a change.
As age, with every passing month, changes my body yet again – my colouring, my shape, my proportions – dressing becomes like chasing a Slinky down the stairs and a ‘bourse’ gives me the opportunity to obtain some ‘new’ stuff without spending a cent. It’s also a great way to try new looks without risk – if they don’t work, you just redonate them.
There were about 15 of us on this occasion and it always strikes me when we have a bourse how nice women are – we pick things out for one another, say: "No, you first," a lot, even as we pointy-elbow our way through the huge pile of cast-offs and stuff cheese nibbles and wine down our necks.
There must have been 20 bin-liners of clothes this time, along with books and ornaments, kitchen equipment etc, and at the end of the evening, I was left with just one bag of clothes to take to the Emmaus charity, along with a few ornaments. Two boxes of books went to a cancer charity and every other single thing was taken.
As more and more of these events have been held over the years, I see items coming around again. On Friday, it was my lovely old blue Shetland Fairisle gilet, which I donated a few years ago, has evidently been worn by someone else and has now been taken by my friend C for this winter. A real case of what goes around comes around.