Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

26 December - Xmas Dances & Hamlet

So, ho, hum. Since it was decided that this year we go easy on the gifts since we spent a pot of cash going to Thailand (though as usual had bought some nice stuff for myself that Toph just had to hand notes over for but I hadn't really bought him anything much), there I was wondering on Xmas eve what to do. And so I decided that for a change I'd go see what's in the shops at 4pm.

Nothing for Toph sadly, thought plenty for me as ever. But what to do? Forlorn I found myself out of Selfridges and wickedly near that temple I swore never to enter again, ie PMark. Off I go telling myself maybe there's some late thingie I can pick up for the teenagers/nieces and sure enough there I see it. A Santa's red short shiny skirt with white 'fur' trimming (all probably made of plastic rather than fabric and highly flammable). It's on a rack reduced to £1, because it's shit but also because it's a size 18. Ha! that don't scare me. Low low on the hips it will go and a safety pin on the elastic band will do the trick. At this point I have no option but to go upstairs to the see the rest. And there they are, totally slutty platform high heeled furry/leather shoes with a sort of lizardy print. Bargain reduced to £10. In the bag. Not even much of a queue to endure. I know I have a red bra at home, who hasn't got one.

And hey presto, surprise Xmas gift for the boy. I sit him on a chair in the l/room , tell him to pick a dance tune from some old CD and march in, first with black top swiftly removed so am down to the red bra, and give him a dance. Admittedly it's not as great as it could be as am slightly worried that my heels will mark the relatively new floorboards (gosh, abandon goes out of the window as you become an 'old' adult), and especially because he's picked a really old Pete Tong compilatio from mid-nineties, I mean it sounds really like shit now this stuff, but he seems to enjoy it. Especially the repeated 'Don't touch or I'll get the bouncers to throw you out'. Toph being Toph, he keeps glancing at the street windows (have yet to make a decision on blinds vs curtains vs whatever else). Poor darling. Afraid to draw passers by's attention. So I playfully slap him but no, he's not relaxing till he makes me move the action to ... the bloody hallway. Bit narrow for my liking but oh, look, we have a full length mirror here. The dance comes to an abrupt end against the mirror. This boy would not have been good at controlling himself in a real club surely.

I think this will become a Xmas tradition to be improved for next time. Maybe I'll spend 20 quid next year, what the heck....

Maybe David Tennant would have appreciated my performance too. Maybe a future Hamlet will be set in some club in present time. Reason for this jump of subject is that we're at a sick friend's house on boxing day to watch Hamlet with her. In religious silence five of us, broken by her father's kind offer of wine. Must say it's not as overwhelming as I thought it would be, in fact remember I have seen Hamlet at least twice before on stage and I never quite get to why he's so troubled by the mother/uncle thing. Surely happened a lot that way in the past non? Sorry DT, you're too typecast as Dr Who to be anyone else. Bit of a crazy little Hamlet.

Am super aware though that a play on madness may be hard to endure by our friend who's fresh from a breakdown and still raw. Very touched that she's chosen us as a brief re-introduction to the world outside the clinic. We tiptoe carefully and don't pry, but she's sweetly open about what's going on with her and I very much hope the therapy will help banish the darkness and depression. And enjoyed very much the post Hamlet supper with her super interesting parents. It may be hard perhaps to grow up with such strong personalities, so engaging and involved in things like policy shaping/law changes etc, but for children like me and Toph who come from families with hardly any books/culture in the house... well, it always makes me wonder what have I lost by not having this and is that why am such a knowledge magpie now?


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