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Last Saturday, Zoe and I went to the Seamus Heaney Homeplace to hear local writer Jan Carson in conversation about her work, particularly her most recent publication which centres on fictional inhabited islands on Lough Neagh. As I expected, it was a really interesting evening.

Obviously, as Jan Carson is only a couple of years older than my youngest daughter, we’re from different generations, Nelly boomer, Jan Carson Gen X. Despite that, I was getting older-girl vibes from her. Not that she isn’t young and vibrant compared to me, but it felt as if I was back in grammar school, in first or second form, and she was one of the cool sixth-formers.

What brought that on? It was when she spoke about the camaraderie among this generation of Irish novelists, how they support each other, enjoy meeting up at literary gatherings, and how the craic is mighty, and as she chatted about Anne Enright and Louise Kennedy, I could just see myself at age 13 or so, hero-worshipping Jan and her cool friends.

Which is why, as she was signing my copy of her latest novel, I was thrilled to pieces when she complimented me on my Uniqlo/Marimekko shirt. I think she was even a wee bit jealous. 

Out and About

One very good reason why I have been neglecting this blog is because I've been getting out and about. Today Miss Martha and I hopped on a train and took ourselves off to Holywood to peruse its excellent charity shops. We do that a lot. Martha took the selfie at the railway station and we are both sporting some of our Holywood finds. The silk scarf I'm wearing (too tightly) is one I found on a previous visit and the sage green cashmere sweater was today's bargain. Martha's best buy was the vintage tweed cap she's sporting. You might notice that it's my granddaughter that seems to be wearing the cashmere sweater. The reason being that she set off without a coat (as youngsters often do) and when it turned cold and showery she asked if she could borrow my jumper. I agreed and because it looked so good on her I'm letting her keep it. On her it's oversized but that works.

I wish my beautiful silk scarf didn't look as if it was strangling me.

The Queen

Bert and I have been watching (and enjoying) The Crown on Netflix. Olivia Colman is terrific in the role of the middle-aged monarch. It’s a fiction loosely based on fact yet it does have its surreal moments, the Duke of Edinburgh attempting to fly a plane to the moon, the Duke of Edinburgh baring his soul to a group of C of E priests, one of whom a dead ringer for Freddie Garrity of Dreamers fame. But one thing has struck me, inspired me – the Queen’s wardrobe. Not her evening gowns or her colour co-ordinated out in public costumes – what I want is her day clothes, the outfits she wears whilst hanging around the palaces, the plain dresses, the well-cut wool skirts, the silky high-necked blouses, the cardigans, the pearls, the court shoes, and the always present handbag. If I had those clothes I’d feel so smart, so ever-ready, and so royal.

Still thinking about it this morning when I realised it wasn’t the Queen’s style I wanted to channel – it was my Aunt Sadie. Sadie, unlike those other scruffbags I mentioned in the Old Shoes post, was always smart and tidy and her hair always 'done'. The addition of an apron or nylon overall helped to keep her clothes clean as she cooked, cleaned and looked after her family for, unlike the Royals, she managed her own house.

Today I am wearing some really scruffy jeans, a Fatface stripey top, a burnt orange M&S jumper worn back to front and an old pair of Superdry boots. I have not combed my hair. 

The Superdry boots, despite their name, do not cut it in the soggy wood and are quite unsuitable for splashing in muddy puddles, something I still enjoy despite having graduated from primary school many decades ago. I used to wear dark purple Hunters but have now settled on sensible Dunlops from the local farm supplies shop. The Hunters are still around, purloined by Hannah, whose slim pins are more suited to them than my sturdy calves.

The Shopping Trip

In the many years I’ve known Swisser we have never gone shopping. It’s a very girly thing to do, don’t you think? That changed yesterday. Of course, being people of intellectual leanings, for I have two (mediocre) degrees and she is a professor, we couldn’t hit the shops before we had taken in an interesting exhibition of political cartoons in the Linenhall Library.

Nor could we begin sales-hunting until we had been for lunch at the John Hewitt. That was my first visit to this well-known pub and I really liked it. The food was delicious and the ambience most relaxed.




After lulling me into a sense of false security in Marks & Spencers, Swisser led me into a succession of shops, some of which I had never entered previously. In fact, I’d thought that old people might not even be allowed. But it turns out that even the trendiest of shops are only too delighted to welcome anyone in possession of money. My favourites were Zara and Urban Outfitters. I also discovered that I am an excellent stylist as all of the items that Swisser purchased were found and recommended by me. Despite dressing like a particularly dowdy farmer’s wife I am actually a fashionista at heart. Really, I am, I just don’t choose to wear it. Right, this minute I am rocking a purple Regatta fleece and Primark pyjama bottoms. This may not tick any fashion boxes but I am very happy and comfortable. And warm.




I bought a long-sleeved burnt orange thermal vest in Marks and Spencers and an oversized plum tartan shirt in Urban Outfitters. I won’t wear them together. Although I might if I feel like it. My choices for Swisser were,

Shift dress from The White House.

Vintage short navy jacket from Urban Outfitters. I advised a change of buttons but Swisser likes the originals.

Plum colored top from Zara.

All garments cost less than £50 in total.




Later that evening I heard that Swisser has very strong opinions about fleeces as they pollute the oceans.  This is worrying as I own three fleeces and several fleece blankets. She said that it is OK if they are never laundered which is one of the things I liked about them - ease of washing and drying. She still has one but never washes it but worries if she wears it in the rain. Sometimes I wish Swisser wouldn't tell me these things. 

Mission Accomplished

This weekend I was determined to come home with my outfit for Katy’s wedding. Should I have to scour the town from East to West I was buying that rig. Preferably in the first shop I went into and that happened to be McKillens.

First thing on my agenda was two new bras for, as every matron knows, all kit looks better when the lady lumps are sitting nicely. A well-fitting bra instantly makes you look 7 pounds lighter. It boosted my confidence that my mother had told me that morning that I looked like a film star compared to her who must remain nameless but is no blood kin to Matty. I didn’t like to ask her what film star she had in mind. Elizabeth Taylor? Lauren Bacall? Harpo Marx? It was better not to spoil my delightful buzz.

The wee woman who fitted me was lovely. And this is not the Norn Irish use of the word ‘wee’ here because she was very wee indeed. Even wee-er than me. She noticed a big red blotch on my back and brought it to my attention.

Oh that’s where I got stung by a bee last weekend. I got stung three times last weekend and I’ll probably get stung again this weekend.

This led to a conversation about bee-keeping and a contact for selling honey and it turns out I know both her brothers already. Sometimes I love living in this wee country.

Underpinning bought and on I headed to the fancy outfit department. I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted a dress with sleeves, in a sort of floaty shape and in a cheerful colour like blue or apple-green or pink. I did a preliminary search of the shop recoiling in horror at the obvious mother of the bride outfits. I dallied a while at a rail of dresses that appealed but did not look as dressy as I thought I ought to look. I did find the sort of dress I was after only it was brown and white, I hated the fabric (too clingy) and it was really far too drab. The next best thing was a turquoise blue silk jacket with a toning floral skirt. I liked the jacket but the skirt looked like something Matty would have worn fifteen years ago. The sales assistant persuaded me to try the plain skirt with it. And so I found myself standing in a turquoise blue silk suit that was well over my budget and I heard myself saying. “I’ll take it.” And as she was heading off to wrap it up I’m thinking, “How the hell do I get out of this? Matty will love this outfit but I feel sick at the thought of being seen in public in it and I’m going to boke right now.” Then I heard myself saying, “But before I go there’s another dress I looked at, it probably won’t suit me but…” And the assistant said, “Sure you might as well try it on while you’re here.” And I did and I felt far better in it than in the turquoise silk. Even though it was cream and black and fuchsia and orange. Even though it had hardly any sleeves to speak of. And even though it was not in the least bit floaty. Now for a handbag and shoes – my kind of shopping.

Trendsetters

Those of you who keep an eye on current fashion trends will be aware that panama hats are very 'now'. Took youse a while to catch on didn't it? Here at the Dreen we think panama hats are so 'last year' and here's the proof.

Rathenraw's own Banjo Man photographed at the Dreen in June 2006. As you see he is wearing last year's Chav-in-the-Country look by Man At Primark. But it's the finishing touches that complete the outfit - in this case a bottle of Stella and a Panama Hat.

And here is Bert rocking his signature pared-down summer look. Jeans are by Pack Man, Panama Hat model's own. Photo taken in July 2006.


So what is the Dreen Look for this summer? Grab yours while stocks last. It's the next big thing!

Class Meets Ass

But which is which?

I kind of like Anna Wintour. She's got a good look and all the better for leaving off the big sunnies. But I sure hope that coat is fake fur for I like cats more than Ms Wintour.

Now Sienna. You clown. You attention-seeking little madam. Out in your pantie-girdle and not a skirt to your name. You don't even need a girdle. Still I suppose it is a better look than flashing the fan like Britney et al.

Knickers To That!

I read recently that all the truly fashionable people shop in Primark now. It's all about mixing your designer pieces with the cheap and cheerful. Dressing head to toe in designer labels like Mrs Beckham is now just as over as her pop career.

So even though I'm not a fashionista I thought to myself, I'll have a bit of that, and headed off to Dunnes. Well there is no Primark in Antrim. Which is where I was when this urge for new garments hit me.

I ignored the underwear section as I am very particular about my underwear. I like it to be big and I like it to be firm and I like it to be well put together - the same as how I like my men really. Dunnes underwear being cheap and cheery (and scratchy and uncomfortable) obviously does not meet my high standards.

Now the other night I was watching that Makosi one on Big Brother. That girl has some backside. Nobody could accuse her trousers of looking like her arse had fainted. But her knickers, they were definitely in a twist. They appeared to be some sort of pink thong that had been kneaded and shredded between her ample cheeks. She looked very uncomfortable indeed.

When I was a girl we got our comfortable and cosy Cherub knickers in Woolworths. Cherubs came up to your waist and cuddled the top of your thighs. They had a double gusset. They fulfilled the function of knickers as laid down by our mothers and grandmothers. They were modest and they kept our kidneys warm. Now I see these sort of knickers feature in some rather dubious websites I once stumbled upon. But unlike the pure white and boilable knickers we favoured these were in navy and bottle green. Very strange.

The rot set in with the coming of mini skirts. Big sensible knickers didn't sit well with shorter skirts and something called briefs was introduced. By today's standards these were anything but brief but back in the sixties we thought they were pretty daring. Nowadays the brevity and scantiness of underwear is shocking and what passes for knickers would do nothing to mind a girl's modesty or warm her kidneys. Maybe it's because of central heating and/or global warming but if the scientist's gloomy predictions for these islands should come to pass then girls will be back in Cherubs by the middle of this century and thongs will just be an unpleasant memory - or not depending on individual taste.

But I'm away off on one again. What did I buy in Dunnes? Well I bought Bert two tee shirts that go by the unfortunate and hopefully not prophetic name of wife beaters and I bought myself very many tee shirts and two pairs of those three-quarter length summer trousers that show off a neatly turned ankle (of which I possess two) and guess what? When I tried the trousers on at home they were nearly full-length. Rats! I hate being short.

Wheels & Valentine

I knew inspiration would come from somewhere. Beauteous Colleague's new name is Ursa Minor - because she's got stars in her eyes, she is often as cross as a bear and she's shorter than her older sister Ursa Major. And don't worry folks - Ursa Minor doesn't mind featuring in Nelly's Garden any more than Bert does, as both of them love being the centre of attention. The other day She Who must Be Obeyed said, "Ursa's got a new vest top. Apparently it cost £95." There followed a conversation on the insanity of spending £95 on a vest top.

"She said the label was irritating the back of her neck so I said 'Why don't you cut it off then?' She said 'Cut it off! That's the bit I spent 95 quid on!'" "Which label was it?" "I can't remember. Anyway I'd never heard of it."

So I had to ask her.

"What about this 95 quid top then?" "Oh yes. My Wheels & Doll Baby." "Wheels and who? Never heard of them." "Everybody's wearing it. Victoria Beckham, Rachel Stevens." "And Jodie Marsh, I suppose. And Jordan?" "Oh yes - everybody. The slogan goes 'Clothes to snare a millionaire.'" "Well I never heard that name until today. I suppose it's a generation gap thing. Have you heard of Robinson Valentine?" "Nope."

Fashion Conscious. Moi?

Just because Nelly's an ould doll doesn't mean that she isn't interested in current fashion trends. In fact I've seen some trends come round for the third time. About 7-8 years ago brown was the new black and collars went all seventies. That took me back. The only thing that changes are the names. Boho chic and vintage - that was part of the hippy thing big in the late sixties and early seventies. These pointed shoes - we called them winklepickers.

But the odd thing comes along that surprises me - this summer it was writing on the arse of your trousers. Some of the wee clients were wearing trackies with 'ANGEL' or 'BABE' emblazoned on the back. I told them that I was getting a pair with 'HIPPOPOTAMUS' on them, then if I lost a bit of tonnage I'd get a pair that said 'ELEPHANT'.