Before both of my children learnt to get themselves dressed, they started to really rather particular about what they wear. Each morning Charlie's room is littered with socks and pants, randomly discarded whilst he searches for which ever ones are the right ones. And with the ability to be a touch on the fussy side about colour, style and fabric, they also have a number of favourite items. This results in these items being worn over and over again until the look decidely subby and the children appearing a little uncared for. The are some stained, worn items riddled with holes that I have been forbidden from throwing out so it is now time for a bit of recycling, upcycling, patching and a small amount of mysteriously being lost in the wash. Charlie's army trousers (with the rip from the knee to the ankle) have been transformed into a pair of shorts and I have promised to make him a pocket covered boy bag with the disguarded fabric. Josie's leggins (which always seem to get holes in the knees) have had the heart shaped patch treatment.
As we sat in our classroom inspired horseshoe, designed to encourage conversation, there was a slightly uneasy silence. Those of us who knew each other, stole furtive glances, others returned our smiles politely although they were not privy to the planning and discussion that had occurred in preparation for the evening. The time had slowed, 8pm seemed an age away. The silence was intermittently interspersed with brief attemps at small talk and the rants of a drunk outside on the city streets. The commanding presence of our WI advisor Dorothy, had the air of an experienced headmistress or well respected senior relative which in the event of such formalities made me feel foolish in my .....excitement. Some of us stifled giggles as advice was provided on the process, as we had already made the majority of our formal decisions but it was with noticeable nerves, that I raised my hand to the question of who wished to be President. So that's it, another new chapter has open
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