Friday, October 7, 2016

Another decadent decade

I have a birthday coming up, and it's a BIG ONE. It's hard to even say the number because it SOUNDS SO OLD. It's the beginning of the decade that includes words like 'Social Security' and 'pension' (on the plus side, it also includes words like 'retirement' and 'senior discount').

down a local lane

So, yeah, there's that.

I first moved to the UK when I was 39, and I had my 40th birthday at an old pub with my friend Tim, who has the same birthday. I'm being a very bad blogger because I'm not going out to the garage to dig through a box of old photos so I can scan a picture for you. Sorry. Instead, here's one of me in Liverpool a couple of weeks ago.

in Liverpool with the Fab (and huge) Four

We moved back to the States when I was 49, so my 50th was spent in Oregon. Ah, yes, I remember it well. It was Friday the 13th. I wore black. Sadly, I have lost or deleted all pictures from that birthday weekend, which included wearing a big wooden fish head at a local restaurant. It was a thing they did.

in Shrewsbury

So now we've moved back to the UK and I'm about to have another big birthday. I have no major plans for this birthday other than a nice dinner and catching up with some friends on the weekend. And then applying for my BUS PASS!

another local lane

Rather than go on about ageing (British spelling) and various aches and pains, I thought I'd mention all the positives in my new life, and share some more photos.

our view with a room

First of all, the neighbours are all really nice here. Our little close has a mix of people ranging in age from late-8os to three weeks, and (almost) everyone gets along. There is some tension between a couple of families, but that only gives the rest of us something to gossip about.

in Montgomery

Also, I've met some outgoing women who meet to speak Welsh and also have organised folk dancing and craft get-togethers. Again, they're all so nice! And since we're in a village, although spread out we run into people we know pretty regularly now.

If you live in a place without blackberries, what a shame!

And I'm going to a yoga class. I've been wanting to do yoga for years, but it was never convenient. Well, now it is, and although it is a challenge (jeez, some of it is damn hard!) it is also blissful.

Lake Vyrnwy

I'm restarting my proofreading/editing business, and I've been making paper products with the thought of selling them, possibly on Etsy, possibly in a local shop where I've already met the very friendly owner.

Oh, and I've been doing a lot more driving, so I'm not so anxious about that anymore.

Liverpool - a city of contrasts

So life is good! Okay, enough about me. After all, I'm just a boring old bat.


Monday, October 3, 2016

Teddy Girls

Blazer, jeans, scarf - sounds like my ideal outfit.

February 2015

Throw in some comfortable shoes and a bit of sass and I'm infatuated.

Photos of the Teddy Girls are by Ken Russell - yes, that Ken Russell - circa 1955,
and were sourced from the two websites mentioned below.

Meet the Teddy Girls. I first read about them awhile back on Messy Nessy Chic, and there's more about them on AnOther.

Who or what are Teddy Girls, I hear you ask. Well, they are the grrrl equivalent to Teddy Boys, who were British guys wearing dapper, pseudo-Edwardian clothes back in the 1950s. With a reputation for causing trouble, they instilled fear in the heart of a very young Mr. S when he saw them in his childhood days in London. (I asked him if he'd ever seen Teddy Girls, and he said he didn't really see any girls on the streets in those days. I suppose they weren't allowed out much.)


What a cool style! Dressy but rebellious. Church clothes with an edge. The girls, though, would have been kicked out of Sunday School for wearing jeans. Like they would care.

So I made my own Teddy Girl. Her name is Eleanor, but her friends call her Lee.

The paper in the background is what I used for Lee's body, which is why she has gingham on her face and leg. I like the mix of traditional and new, an English rose nurtured on nihilism in post-War London who kisses her mum goodnight, then sneaks out the window to go running through the rubble with her mates, smoking fags and snogging blokes.


I wonder where these women are today?