STORM IN A COFFEE CUP?

Went for tea at the Ritz on Saturday night. Stop smirking! T'is true! Last Christmas, the four oldest children in my side of the family had bought it as a gift for Mother, Two Sisters and Self. It seemed such a long time in the future on Christmas Day 2006 , then suddenly it was the Next Day and I still had no idea what to wear. A couple of weeks before, Mother had informed me with all the grave seriousness of a judge pronouncing sentence that Jeans and Trainers WERE NOT PERMITTED. The teenage rebel that lies dormant in my fifty year old body strongly resented being told what I couldn't wear and I decided there and then to wear Jeans and Trainers. That was fine two weeks ago but by last Friday it had dawned on me that maybe I should re-consider. Only for the sake of my generous nieces and nephews you understand; not because the Dormant Teenage Rebel had had a change of heart. It just occured to me that I might be a tinsey bit embarrassed if, outside the gilt doors of London's poshest hotel, I got turned away whilst Mother and Two Sisters went in and lived the high-life - even if it was only for a couple of hours.

On the Friday, whilst finalising all the arrangements with Youngest Sister, I was reliably informed that she, Middle Sister and Mother were all wearing skirts and jackets and posh shoes. "What about you?" Youngest Sister asked. Dormant Teenage Rebel within screamed defiantly "I'll be there in my jeans and trainers ALL RIGHT!!!". Mature, responsible Inner Self replied "Oh I have some smart black trousers and a smart white top so I'll wear those." "I might wear trousers if it keeps raining, actually," said Youngest Sister. "Me too," responded Mother in background. "See you around 5 o'clock then," I said.

Saturday morning dawned overcast and threatening rain. "What time are you going to start getting ready?" asked Hubby mid-morning. "Oh, about three-ish I suppose," I replied. On the dot of three, I went upstairs and had a shower. I was towelling myself vigorously afterwards when hubby called up the stairs "Sarah's on the phone. D'you want to take it up there?" Sarah is the publisher who has taken on the burden of presenting my first childrens' book to the world.
"Yeah I'll take it up here," I called in reply. Swaddled in towels I traipsed from the bathroom to the bedroom and lifted the phone. Hung up over half an hour later. It was now quarter to four and I was meant to be leaving in less than an hour. And I still wasn't sure what I wanted to wear. At just before four the phone rang again. It was Youngest Sister. "We're just leaving. See you at East Croydon in about an hour." I decided now might be a good time to go and look in the wardrobe.

At half past four, dressed in Smart Black Trousers and Smart White Top, I left home. Mother and Two Sisters were on the Victoria train so said they'd wave at me from the train as it pulled in so that I would know to jump aboard. The train pulled in at ten past five and no amount of scrutiny revealed where on the train they were. Suddely I spotted Middle Sister running up the platform waving frantically. "Get on. get ON!" she screeched. I tried. The doors wouldn't open. I glanced desperately along the platform. Middle Sister had vanished. Oh God! Now the guard was blowing the whistle. "Stop. Stop." I screamed frantically pushing the button. "Let me on. Open this door! I am meeting people on this train! Two carriages down the doors opened and Middle Sister hung out. "Come ON!" she howled. I ran down the platform and leapt on just as the guard blew his whistle for the final time and the train jolted into motion.

I followed Middle Sister several carriages down through air that was blue from my swearing and finally sank into seat next to Mother. Not only was I stressed out, I was having a real hum-dinger of a hot flush AND all three of them were wearing skirt suits despite the rain. Felt utterly betrayed! Still, Dormant Teenage Rebel chimed in, it was TOO LATE NOW!

To be continued.