These arms - that dress

After yesterday's rant I realised that the outfit didn't get a mention which is very unlike me, so let's put that right. The dress is a couple of years old and, surprise surprise from a charity shop, although I think the brand was Next. It's proved to be a mainstay in my wardrobe as it's a wash and wear dress which always makes me feel very glamorous without too much effort. I think we all need one of these in our arsenal. Carrying on from the whole arms/sleeves debate, what is interesting is that if this had short sleeves I don't think it would look as good or feel as fab. In fact, given that it's well past knee length if it had sleeves too it could look quite mumsy and that's certainly not going to feel very glam!
The necklace is another instant glam item which has been featured a lot on the blog so far, but I make no apologies for that. The size of the imitation pearls and general chunkiness again adds instant glamour yet doesn't look out of place during the daytime. I have a black short tailored cardi that I wear over the dress if it's a bit chilly which does give the outfit a more formal edge, but given that I knew where this photo shoot was going I felt formal was not the look I was trying to achieve.
The feedback through email and Facebook re "These arms" has been amazing, thank you. Looks like I struck a chord there, so please do feel free to share with friends who may enjoy the rant.


Dress: charity shop. Necklace: Debenhams. Shoes: TK Maxx. Belt: charity shop. Gold garnet ring: gift. Gold band: Les Grimshaw. Sapphire ring: engagement ring. Sunglasses: Quay Australia.

These arms

 

 

OK, the photos pretty much say it all. This is the current state of play regarding the onset of middle age and the big question of whether to cover up or not. Yes, I know it may not look like much at the moment, but it's the start of things to come, a sign that there's no going back. With a bit of clever posing my arms still look fairly acceptable for an old bird of 57. Don't think that this has happened by chance though. As a teenager I played volleyball, netball and basketball. From being spindly, string arms they took on some shape and definition until gradually I developed fine, not overdone, muscles. Swimming club kept these muscles lean and since my recent love affair with wild swimming I'm happy to say that I can still pull off a shapely pose from time to time. But don't be fooled. Age is catching up with me and my arms are showing the ravages of time as much as my face now. Caught unawares, there's a whole lot of dodgy stuff to be seen.

I'm making a point of sharing this as it's really winding me up to be honest. Not the whole ravages of time thing, but the dilemma of which way to go with it. Do I take cover and invest in sleeved versions of everything? Or do I ignore it? Well, that's not really an option, is it? Here they are flashing about in front of me, catching my attention at the most inopportune of moments. Take the other evening during our latest exhibition. There was I blithely accepting payment for a beautiful painting, feeling delighted for the artist, happy for the business and suddenly, as I was bending over the PDQ machine, out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of my terrible inner arm gloopiness, a kind of lacy, drapey skin. Worse still was the thought that the client may have been exposed to this unsavoury display too! Did I actually see the guy wince? Is this a major social gaffe, worse than having your skirt stuck up your knicker leg?

Mary Portas tried to wean us onto her solution to the problem. Armery, I think she called it: a pair of arm tights which was designed to be worn under the dress/top.  Available in lace, jersey or cotton and in umpteen colourways it was going to revolutionise the way we dress. In some ways I was kind of pleased that we were talking about yet another unmentionable women's problem, but in another it riled me a bit too. Why, oh why, are we so pressured into being perfect even as we come into our later years? As I look around at men of my own age are they being asked by society to cover up their imperfections so as not to offend me or other sensitive souls? Not that I've noticed. More to the point, are they worried about the ravages of time? It doesn't look like it to me. I'm not about to declare war and itemise every imperfection of the male anatomy just to make my point, and I'll tell you why. I don't really care. Blokes are blokes and they come in all shapes and sizes just like us women. But somehow their imperfections don't feature in newspapers and magazines with sickening regularity. Nor are there pages and pages of advertisements selling creams, potions or surgery to fix all of their problems. And no, these chaps are not to be found squinting at their rear view just before they go out to dinner. The very thought that the male of the species would have their evening spoilt by a glimpse of their balding pate in a mirror as they were departing the Gents is laughable, ridiculous. But I know it's such a common occurrence for a woman to have her evening spiral into a decline if she happens to discover that her outline is not as she imagined as she gazes into a different mirror - this isn't what her reflection at home told her. So sad and so annoying too.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand. In the grand scheme of things I know how terribly shallow, no, pathetic this all seems.  Looking around me at failing economies, school shootings, global warming, famine and war, does it really matter if my arms look like those of a 57 year old? I think not. These arms have cherished two babies as I breastfed them for years and years, way beyond what was necessary, and well into a place that satiated my overwhelming desire to nurture, my need to love and wonder at these small and amazing creatures that were my blessings. These arms have hugged and squeezed so many friends, too many to count, but left no doubt that my love was strong, my concern genuine. These arms have comforted family in times of need, been solace and safety when life was tough. These arms have welcomed newcomers into my life as I have opened my heart to them unreservedly.  These arms have waved their bingo wings like joyous flags to departing loved ones as they headed off to pastures new. These arms have carried bags and bags of shopping, lovely loot from all of my favourite charity and non-charity shops. These arms have been hugely industrious and strong, lugging paintings and sculptures from here to there and back again, thousands of times over. These arms have beaten pounds and pounds of the most delicious homemade fudge you'll ever find. These arms have carried forth many a plump, burnished turkey to complete another family Christmas dinner. And these arms are going to attempt to swim between every one of the six isles of Scilly on the 5th of September 2015.

So what I'm saying is that these arms, like your arms (all you lovely readers out there) are wonderful, functional, expressive and generous. They may jiggle and wobble and have a mind of their own, but they're pretty amazing none the less. And if you see me in a sleeveless outfit this summer, don't feel sorry for me that I maybe ought not to be showing my arms as the flesh it ripples, the skin it sags, and I'm looking a tad less than perfect. Please note that I won't be concerned about these arms. Please, don't you be either.

Exhibition night: 3 of 6

 

 

And here we are on the night of the final July show. How quickly these summer months seem to pass us by. Everyone on the island prepares for months for this, our busiest of times, and it's suddenly upon us and gone before we know it.

 

Here's me with one of our exhibiting artists, Rosemary Trestini, and the support team shows Tash Lawson stepping into the breech as Julie was otherwise engaged. We had an incredibly busy evening where the girls and I were very pleased that we didn't actually run out of wine, thanks to the pub manager Rob Leatherbarrow who sent us extra supplies at one stage. Much as it was a hectic evening it was great fun, sales were good and some of the crowd spilled out onto the road, drinks in hand, to enjoy the last of the evening sun.

 

One of the highlights of my evening was when a London fashion designer who was holidaying on the island remarked on what an amazing outfit I had on. She could hardly believe it when I told her it was from Tesco. I knew the moment I saw this all-in-one that it looked like a top of the range piece. I never want to pass these things off as something more than they are, and I'm so chuffed that I've not had to spend a fortune, but can still look good. I bought the necklace especially to go with this - it's a fossilised shark tooth encrusted with rose gold Swarovski crystals. Rather fab, eh?

 

Jumpsuit: Tesco. Shoes: New Look. Necklace: Charlie Dodge. Rose gold bangle: Kate Spade New York. Peach Perspex ring: gift. Flower ring and bracelet: Dorothy Perkins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paul Costelloe jacket

Here's a beautiful jacket which I've only worn a couple of times. It's by Paul Costelloe and is such a lovely fabric and style that I don't know why I've held back from wearing it. Actually that's not true. I do know, and the reason harps back to my childhood. When I was young the deal with clothes was school, play and Sunday Best. That mentality has never quite left me and I'm aware that I have a huge raft of clothes in my wardrobe which I feel are special and are being held back as Sunday Best. This jacket comes under that heading and I really think I ought to start getting the wear out of these beautiful items. I know I've kept some dresses for special occasions which have never materialised and after a few years I gradually fell out of love with them. This usually results in me selling them on eBay for a fraction of what I paid which is annoying, but the sadness is more because I really ought to have enjoyed wearing it. 

I have a friend who when she loves something new, she wears and wears it until it more or less falls to pieces. She has such enjoyment wearing her favourite dress/coat/shoes, getting the value from them - it's a lesson for me and maybe all of us. Wear your Sunday Best on Sunday, but wear it any other time too with relish!

Jacket : Paul Costelloe. Shirt : eBay. Trousers : Boden. Rose gold loafers : Vintage Style. Green ring : Leju. Shell pendant : charity shop. Garnet ring : gift. Rose gold bangle : Kate Spade New York.

Blue day

The day may have been blue, but I certainly wasn't as Polly and I stepped out for our morning photo shoot. The backdrop was in fact bright blue and echoed my chosen palette of the day. My recent shopping trip has been a wonderful supplement to my summer wardrobe and these lovely wedge sandals were a great find in TK Maxx. I was torn between these and a pair with a leopard print in the same style and am glad to have opted for the floral as they are already proving to be so useful.
The dress has recently been altered and I'm delighted to have it back in use. I love a simple shift dress, not just for the shape, but as it's an easy no-fuss style for work and cool for the summer months. And the jacket is my go-to jacket at this time of year so you may be seeing quite a lot of it!

Jacket : Benetton. Dress : TK Maxx. Shoes : TK Maxx. Bag : charity shop. Necklace : Leju. Bangle : old. Turquoise ring : old. Silver ring : Diana Porter.

Oriental print palazzo pants

Let's have fun with colour is what I advocate and here I am practising what I preach. I'm so pleased with these palazzo pants which I found in Tesco on my recent trip away. The wedge sandals and handbag are also new and work perfectly with this look. I had previously customised the little purple cashmere cardi with new Mary Goldberg buttons and don't they tie in so well with not only the necklace, but the whole outfit? Sorry if I'm coming across as smug, it's never meant to be, I just take such pleasure in my clothes - they really are a source of joy for me. I want to share that with others and inject some enthusiasm into the wavering or unsure amongst you. Adding a few bright separates to your wardrobe can be a great facelift and a mood enhancer too. Go on, give it a try. It needn't be expensive and who knows where it might take you?

Trousers : Tesco. Cardi : Boden. Vest top : Primark. Sandals : TK Maxx. Necklace : Leju. Handbag : charity shop. Sun glasses : Quay Australia. Blue ring : charity shop. Turquoise ring : old. Bangle : old.

Summer exhibitions: 2 of 6

Here we are again, 10 days later on our second show. As Julie, Beth, Polly and I line up outside the gallery after our opening night we are greeted by a warm blast of summer wind to liven things up. The attending artist is Ellen Watson who has had a great launch to her summer exhibition and who looks suitably pleased (if somewhat wind blasted!)
My outfit for the evening is great little find from my favourite charity shop in Truro. It's by Coast and am not sure if it's ever been worn as the dress straps were still attached to the inside of the dress in their plastic sleeve. It would be perfect as a wedding outfit too, so may well appear again sometime. I've teamed it up with a rather special necklace by Magpie Vintage. These pieces are all sourced from genuine vintage necklaces and brooches which are dis-assembled and reworked with pearls and gemstones to make a unique piece of jewellery. It's a great piece to jazz up a simple black dress too and is really paying it's way as far as cost per wear goes.

Dress and jacket : Coast (charity shop). Necklace : Magpie Vintage. Shoes : Debenhams.

Suited and booted

 

It was my day off, the sun was shining, the tide high, all in all perfect conditions for a long sea swim. My training has been erratic of late probably due to it being the height of the summer and the pressures of work encroaching onto my free time, but today I decided would be a me day. Once I was suited and booted I slipped into the water at New Grimsby and headed off. My plan was to swim further today than before, hopefully around the South end of the island and onto the Eastern beach of Pentle Bay. Pentle is an amazing sweep of beach where I've had many a leisurely swim over the years. With a view across to the Eastern Isles it's like something out of a movie set and has been used for many postcards, paintings and magazine shoots featuring these islands.

So that was the plan as I struck out. The sea temperature is noticeably warmer now although I'm not sure what the exact figures are. When I think back to the mornings where I would be sandblasted in the icy North winds during the winter months these summer swims are positively balmy, with some spots akin to bathwater. The greatest difference of course is the fact that for my long swims I'm now covered in neoprene from neck to toes and fingertips. Swimming cap and goggles add another line of defence so really it's only the submersion of my face that is feeling the true water temperature. That said, it's not bitterly cold and after a while I'm acclimatised and breathing steadily. It's a source of frustration to me that I'm still using breast stroke when I thought I'd be well along with my freestyle training. Time is slipping away but the only way this will happen is by making the effort and putting some practise in.

These thoughts fill my mind as I swim steadily onwards enjoying the lack of boat traffic and more importantly very little wind nor sea chop. Although not exactly a mill pond along this Western edge of the island, I think it will be beautifully calm once I reach the other side. As I round the rocks at Appletree Point I can see a couple of small craft moored up along the water's edge. Picnic time on the beach - what could be more perfect? I start to cut across the bay heading South keeping an eye out for passing boats while noticing tiny figures playing Frisbee on the sand. I'm occasionally aware of a ripple of cool water present at the back of a knee or a trickle down my spine inside my wetsuit. As I swim across the shallow waters I sometimes see a crab scuttle shyly away under a clump of seaweed. The sea is a clear turquoise today under the bright, almost cloudless sky.

I set off before midday and have no idea of the time, but hope to miss the lunchtime tripper boats as I round Carn Near within the next 15 minutes. As I'm thinking this I'm suddenly aware of a speedboat slicing through the water ahead of me. Every time I surface to take a breath I check the boat's progress and can see it's cutting across the bay in front of me, probably to stop on the beach. I forge on but keep an eye out. A few figures jump off, then as the boat draws back, another figure dives into the water and something is launched after him. A donut. My biggest dread is being in the water in the middle of this type of water play. I worry that the drivers attention will be only on steering one moment and glimpsing behind the next to check if they still have donut and occupant intact. The fateful day when Kirstie MacColl was hit in the water by a speedboat after a scuba dive with her sons in the  waters off the island of Cozumel, Mexico has plagued my imagination ever since she died. I stop swimming and bob about in an effort to be as obvious as possible. The boat approaches slowly and on seeing me veers away before throttling up creating a whoop of excitement from the passenger atop the donut.

I head on toward the narrow neck of weed and rocks which will lead me to Carn Near. It's no longer high tide and the rubbery seaweed lies like a raft across the sea. I could swim further out but as this would put me more into the boating lane I decide to push on, and pushing is pretty much what I have to do at some points. I feel a bubble of laughter rise in me at how ridiculous this is proving. I make slow progress across the weed but it's strangely enjoyable to have a different challenge within the day's swim. As I round the neck I can see a tripper boat leaving the quayside. Great timing. I wouldn't have liked to be there as it was coming in. The majority of the quay is under water so I have to swim along its length until I reach the end and can turn back in towards the land. The next part of my swim is more of a puzzle as I know the beaches and land very well, but haven't much knowledge of the rocks and ledges here. I circumnavigate a huge outcrop only to discover when I get past it that I could have swum inland more easily.

The only sounds are my breathing and the odd engine in the distance, mostly boats but sometimes a plane overhead on it's way to land on St Mary's. Company in the water is scarce too, just the odd glimpse of silver as a fish darts away. I spot a white carrier bag floating in the current  below me and note that it's the first one I've seen this year. It reminds of the scene in American Beauty where a paper bag is dancing and skimming around in a gentle vortex of wind.  I'm nearing another clump of rocks which are unfamiliar to me from the sea, but which I do know have a lot of sea current running through them at certain states of the tide. I keep as near to the shore as possible and encounter a different type of seaweed which seems to throw bubbles up as I traverse it, causing my humour button to be activated again. This was more fun than I expected.

I round the next little sweep of beach then rocks and suddenly here I am on home ground, Pentle Bay. The sea is azure and I feel I could be swimming somewhere tropical amongst the eddies of warm water. I relax into the familiar territory and experience what I can only explain as a state of flow ; blissful swimming which required no thought to the breath or effort in the stroke. I had become a swimming machine, at one with my surroundings, relaxed, fearless and enjoying every moment of the rhythm. It was joyful, and being aware of the uniqueness of of the experience I observed it and locked it away to feed me during harder swims . From time to time a lilac globe pulsed past me, part of the host of jellyfish which had been washed up on my home beach. Their translucent beauty was easier to admire as they regally drifted by in the clear green waters.

Before long I had powered past Pentle Bay which I had planned to be my destination. The ease of the swimming led me on and I realised that there were only a couple of smaller bays to go and I could arrive at Old Grimsby within a short while. A family in a small punt and outboard skimmed past me and a second little boat approached from the other direction. We passed in a shallow bay and I was knocked out of my reverie by the wash of the boats slopping over my head and pushing me sideways. The humour of the moment never lost on me, I laughed and ingested a gulp of seawater which dampened me down. A cough and splutter and on I went. Blockhouse Castle revealed itself around the next cove and I knew I had almost arrived. Suddenly I didn't want the swim to end. It had felt like an epic event, separate from my normal life, like an adventure which I had amazingly created within a midweek day off work. By the time I arrived at Old Grimsby the state of the tide was my indicator as to how long I must have been swimming. It was no longer high tide but was clearly half tide. I must have been swimming for about 3 hours. When I reached the shore I stood up, or at least tried to and immediately fell over. Some children paddling nearby took no notice. I rolled onto my back and waited. Perhaps this had been a bigger undertaking than I had realised. After a few minutes I staggered to my feet and wobbled my way up the beach. I'd swum more that half way around the island. Time for a late lunch and a rest in the sun I think.