22 July - young lovers do they run free

Today have come to work wearing young lover’s work shirt, a lovely pale blue drip dry shirt with a BPB logo on it (Blackpool Pleasure Beach). It’s very 50’s American college and I had to resist the impulse to put my hair up in pigtails. Could have done if I worked in a diner but I don’t. He’s probably at his work wearing my surfer watch: a £5 buy on a website, dead cute stuff, basically a plastic LCD face on an elasticated tube, waterproof to a few metres. He did complain a fair bit because the rubber tube/strap is pink but hey… he wanted something of mine and we are not about to exchange expensive presents. Just the other day I read that Pete Docherty gave Kate Moss a €70 ring saying he was a bit short of cash. Am sure she wears it as proudly as if it was the biggest rock from the Natural History Museum current diamond exhibition. In fact, wasn’t she burgled a while back and all her jewellery stolen? See not worth getting attached to the valuable stuff. Cheap presents in any case are what you do when you are having young love. You go straight back to the teenage you and are perfectly happy with stuff from Clare’s accessories, wish that had existed back then. Young lover also bought me a top from a shop in Camden Market. I resisted several of his previous choices as, despite being immensely flattered that according to him I can wear this miniskirt and that boob tube combo, it simply cannot be done at this point in my life. His eventual choice is very lovely, cream coloured with red Chinese silk insert showing through the artful tears in the fabric and it has a little marsupial pocket at the front and … a hood! Weather turned cloudy so I put the hood up. Must say to Mr Blair and ASBO campaigners that a hood instantly makes you feel safe yourself, like those little hats you wore in the pram. Never mind appearing threatening to others, kids do hoodies for their own comfort. I wore the top immediately paired with my Diesels, I hardly ever wear jeans, and platform cork shoes to a picnic where one of my friends remarked ‘Are you wearing your young clothes?’ And indeed they were young clothes in more ways than one, as am sure I have some photo from 1973 where I’m similarly attired. Another acquaintance instead, herself a mother of a 22 year old, simply admired the top and asked where was it from. Obviously she is a disco mummy. I asked her if she would mind a 42 year old going out with her son and she said yes but wouldn’t have any moral objections if the 22 year old was somebody else’s son. I was relieved. The picnic was the 18th b’day of a daughter’s friend. All her friends were 18 too. My 24 year old declared they were too young for him and had no personalities but I suspect only by 2 years or so. I had to point out that personalities do accrue with time and Iggy Pop was 22 when the first Stooges album was released. Ok exceptions to rules perhaps. A couple of the 18 year olds were sucking face pretty much throughout the afternoon – only been going out with each other 2 months. All say ahhhh. It was hard to look away, and I guess we were all jealous of that lack of self awareness, or at least I was, though drank champagne instead of snogging my lover. It was mostly the boy who couldn’t leave his prize possession new g/friend alone. I simply couldn’t remember what that was ever like. I asked 24 year old as it can’t have been that long ago for him, but he declined to comment. Not sure if to spare my feelings. I think sometimes he feels he’s part of some anthropological experiment on my part. I thought he’d be upset later on the train back to find my lovingly wrapped steak sandwich – perfectly seasoned - and assorted chocolates smuggled in his bag in amongst the cans of beer but he sent a text to thank me. I had also smuggled in new socks short of booking him a pedi – he has to wear horrid shoes for work that have given him lots of callouses. Can’t help myself. Lover/mother. Fine line.