Halloween Dreams

Three families trying to share a house - it could be done, there were many beds, it was just inconvenient and untidy. I think I know what this is about. It's Dad's families; ourselves, his second wife and daughter and these people in Liverpool. Bro says Dad told him about the latter, but he wasn't to tell Mum. But did Dad actually say that he had two sons, or that someone was trying to claim it? I'll try to clarify for my own sake. Either way, Dad's second wive's sister told Bro that the DNA tests had disproved the claim. Still, I find myself curious. Who are these people? They must have been pretty sure. And why bother? I find myself wondering, and clearly my subconscious does too.

The dream moved on to one lovely thing and one beautiful thing; the lovely thing was the ghost of Gerald Suster as a fresh faced young man with some quality of the ingenue about him. He was enthusiastic, like a student or an apprentice engineer.

The other was a very beautiful animal, perfectly safe and happy, that looked like a cross between a domestic cat and a leopard. Very graceful with a pleasant look on its face, an exquisite, rare and happy creature. It has occurred to me that if there are such things as spirit animals, perhaps mine is a cat, they turn up in my dreams so much. But the truth is, in real life I have 4 and at least 3 of them will join us on the bed throughout any given night, one in particular often purring at me, cleaning my hair, and pranging me with her claws for attention. The wonder would be if I didn't dream of them.

The Empress's New Clothes

Tentative forays into Bride land were disappointing. I'm not really going for it until after Oz, but I thought I would have a quick attempt, not least on seeing something interesting at Net-a-porter:


This is contemporary and light, as is the venue, so I popped down to Mr McQueen's establishment on Old Bond Street to see if it would do.

Everyone complains that these things are only designed to look good on tall whippet thin models... this was not the case. The dress seemed to have been cut for a person of ordinary size and height with the shoulders of an American quarterback and the arms of a cave troll. The sizes were generous but even in a 10 the cuffs hung down over my hands, the assistant explaining that they would have to be folded back. So what was the point of those dinky little buttons then? There was also a weird gap created by too much material at the back; somewhere to hide a spare groom I presume.

Not that more traditional wedding gowns were any better. Lace and heavy beading is very in this year, and I don't necessarily look great in either, which is why I went to check on the dress in the first place. I expected the broderie anglaise to be the problem, not the cut. Oh, but wandering through Debenhams/House of Fraser etc,the bridal gowns look hopelessly dull and cheap while costing silly amounts. The one that looked least offensive on me was one of the cheapest of the lot, seriously http://www.debenhams.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/prod_10701_10001_008010450485_-1 Then I tried a Jenny Packham creation that just fell to the floor in a hideous avalanche of curtain material and fringe...lord! who would buy this stuff? then a couple of things from Coast, Phase 8, and Biba, evening dresses with dodgy zips, not a risk to take on the wedding day. For all this fuss and considerably less cash, I could find something interesting in Camden.

There is of course, Pro Novias, but just looking in the window seems like a major commitment.A visit to Pro Novias appears to be a group affair, groups of women clustered on sofas, brides and wedding advisors looking through vast catalogues, assistants rushing up and downstairs with endless variations on 'The Dress'. It hurts my brain just to contemplate it.