About this blog

This is a window into the weird world of Anglicanism, as experienced on a Cathedral Close. Has anything much happened since Trollope's Barchester Chronicles? You will still see the 'canon in residence' hurrying across to choral Evensong, robes flapping, as the late bell chimes. But look carefully and you will notice he is checking the football score on his iPhone as he runs. This is also a writer's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the novelist's life. And it's a fighter's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the judo mat. Well, the agony, anyway.

Monday 16 January 2012

DAY 16

Well, I've regained my fashion mojo.  This came about after a surprise affirmation from the bathroom scales, a piece of equipment I have an occasionally tense relationship with.  Normally I play best of three, but today the reading was a full 3lb less than I feared.  YESS!!  I'll take that, thank you very much.  I suspect these fluctuations are as much to do with the whims of my electronic scales as my eating patterns and the monthly roller coaster which is womanhood.  I aspire not to take much notice, provided the underlying message is one of stability.  Rather than a careless muffin and WHOOMF! obesity strikes like an exploding airbag.  Which is what we fear.  And if we have a nonconformist background, it's what we think we deserve.

Anyway, today I'm wearing possibly the least colour coordinated outfit I've sported in many a long year.  I'm hoping that this lack of coordination doesn't spill over into the rest of my life.  If I start tripping and knocking things over, I may have to go on a strict regime of 80s style matchy-matchy until things settle down again.  But just look at my jumper, people:

Oh, sorry.  I should have rotated that.  Never mind, you get the blinding effect, I'm sure.  This is the oldest garment in my possession.  I bought it with some birthday money in 1977, and it's still going strong.  You can see that it's beginning to unravel at the cuff there, but apart from that, it's as good as new.  It had a long sojourn in the dressing-up box, when my small sons would occasionally team it with thigh boots, sparkly dresses and a Fireman Sam helmet; but I retrieved it during the first 70s revival at the end of the 90s.  Goodness me, what a cheerful jumper! people say, reaching for sunglasses or possibly a flame thrower.

With this iconic piece I'm wearing a green vest, my beige 8-gore needle cord skirt, brown woolly tights, black socks and a grey fur-covered hot water bottle, a cream fleecy blanket, a brown fake fur gilet (Primark, before it was banned) and a plum-coloured chunky knit scarf.  The look can be summed up in the following sentence: 'Would you like to sponsor an hour of central heating so that a poor clergy wife can stay warm?'


  1. Looks familiar. In fact I have one very like it :)

  2. This the one I wore when The Daily Mail famously reunited us.