Workfest

Alright, I confess. Today I went to the Mumsnet Workfest. As we all know, this event is intended for young Mums wantng to go back to work or start their own businesses. I am so far from being a young Mum that my age would run right off the page. In fact, I am not even a young Grandmother. One or two of the Grandmothers I know are young enough to be my Grandaughters.  However, I went for two reasons. One, was the chance of meeting, again, an editor/publisher who was there last year,  to talk about the possibility of making a book of my blogposts  and, also, some guidance about publishing the book I am writing with a friend that I have told you about. Two, was the pleasure I get from seeing a crowd of intelligent and lovely faces - and that's just the babes in arms who have been brought along. Just kidding: it is the Mums who appear so lively and interesting. Sadly, the lady was not there this time so I am resigned to research on the internet when I get back my strength.  I have something of a rarity value on these occasions  so people come up and talk to me. It is really exciting to hear their aspirations and their intentions  I was impressed with the break-out sessions I attended and rather wished I were in a  position to profit from them in a current, productive way. Still one never knows....  I should say that the whole affair was immaculately planned and carried out but I did jump ship early to take my two buses home with lots to think about.

However, for those of my faithful followers who may have no interest in the above, I shall return to the theme of 'Where-Are-The Snows-of-Yesteryear'.  I have a red, full length, glorious silk coat. I wore it for a very special birthday party to which I was invited. Dear Reader, it was too long and I had to keep hitching it up. This rather detracted from its elegance.. I told myself I had formerly worn it with high heels. The truth is, I haven't worn high heels since long before the advent of the coat. I have shrunk. The coat trailed because I am at least an inch shorter than I was. I was forced to remember that, as I write, one of my young looks down on me when I was used to looking her straight in the eye. The phrase 'little old lady' takes on a whole new dimension. Nothing to be done although my inner voice did have a go at suggesting I might try high heels now. To the danger of tripping over my hem would be added the danger of falling flat on my face - or, if I am in luck, on my backside. I find myself opening a ring-pull tin with a tin opener. (Can, in Mountview, California). No-one warned me of the little losses one would have to find a way around. Never mind: the sense of what's funny inevitably makes everything tickety-boo. I leave you with a story. A little boy, aged seven, lived alone with his Mother until came the day when Jack moved in. Several months later, the child was heard to say to Jack "When you came to live with us, Mummy and I needed you a lot. But we are alright now, so you can go back to your own house." His Mother, unsurprisingly, remonstrated with him saying he had hurt Jack's feelings and asked why had he said those things. The child replied that he had thought long and hard about what to say, adding "I could just have told him to f.... off." Nos da.