Every now and again someone makes fun of me because I really do sit and read the smallprint in computer download terms and conditions. I say it’s because I’m looking for anything like ‘Hidden in this is something you really don’t want’, ‘we shall raid your entire computer’ and ‘we gain and retain ownership of your immortal soul’. Not found them so far, but I have discovered a whole lengthy first paragraph written by a designer praising the sheer wonderfulness of his girlfriend and wishing to share this with the world.
But it turns out I was right after all:
The Christmas adverts are out. They’re all hideous in their own special ways.
Though I did like this:
Am I the only person who starts their Christmas Shopping on August Bank Holiday?
Today Debenhams announced that they will be using size 16 mannequins alongside their size 10 ones, to represent real women.
This Spring I went shopping for a dress in which to attend a wedding. I looked at the racks and there was nothing.
- At BHS I had to have the dress from the mannequin, which fitted perfectly and which I bought then and there. The manager explained to me that they “only now buy in size 14 or above – we only get one size 8-10 and that’s for the mannequin.”
- In Debenhams I could walk up to the mannequin, knowing that whatever fitted and looked good on them would fit and look good on me. Debenhams had one dress in the rack that was mannequin sized, which fitted, which I bought.
- Marks and Spencers has mannequins at a size 10, giving the hope that after hours of searching something might fit, but like BHS there is nothing on the racks that fits. I have even been turned away with, “Madam, we don’t MAKE that size” while being laughed at.
And the explanation all the way through? “No one is a size 10, madam.”
Well, not only am I a size 10, but T. M. Lewin thinks I’m a size 6. I have a BMI of 21. Is that not what everyone is supposed to be aiming at? But the punishment for getting there, staying well, taking health seriously so as to be able to live life and not to burden others, is to have to buy all clothing in the men’s section because women’s clothing is twice the size while being told repeatedly that you don’t exist, don’t count, aren’t real.
I have it on good authority that when I happen at someone I can be very real indeed.
At least Debenhams are still using the size 10 mannequins too. They are the last high street shop that sells anything that fits. The running joke at work is that all of my clothing comes from Millets or Blacks, embarrassing as they don’t sell underwear.
Bizarre adverts keep appearing in my Gmail account. On looking into this I found that my ‘inferred age from other content’ is 35-44.
Obviously I must possess a wisdom and maturity beyond my years…
I suspect that part of the problem is that my name is not uncommon so I get spam and genuine emails from people who have typed the address wrongly or are simply confused. So far I have acquired three sets of medical records, an amazing travel history, children that I must somehow have forgotten about, a starring role at a Toyota dealership in Alabama, changed religion, married countless times and been inspected by Ofsted once.
Good to know that the senders take ‘confidentiality’ so seriously – I have a growing list of businesses in three continents that I would not hand my personal details to.
Dragon is back from its annual visit to the vets. It passed, with some minor new parts and advisories. One was to get a new front tag for its collar, as the old one is cracked.
It’s doing the ‘normal’ things that highlights how old and unique Dragon is now. I turned up to Halfords today with documents proving I was me, where I lived and that I really was admitting ownership of the character-filled creation lurking at the back of the car park. Making the plate, cleaning the space and putting the new one on took minutes, but getting the old one off took the best part of half an hour as the lad had to chip all of the rust off before he could even get to the screws. As usual, Dragon wasn’t letting go. The new plate is on skew, but that’s fine as it is exactly how the old one was.
But Dragon was still doing better than others around it. Today a lass ordered plates, looked annoyed at how long the lad was taking with me, then when handed them realised that she hadn’t got as far as thinking how she’d actually fit them. At the vet’s yesterday Dragon shared the garage with two mk2 jaguars, an 11 year old fashion 4×4 “a complete moneypit, I told ‘im, but he thinks he can get years of trouble-free motoring after this” and an “it’s failed, yeah, it’s failed *sigh*” 4 year old ‘name’. There’s something to be said for keeping elderly electric-free solid blocks of precision engineering going!
In between the immense body of reading that gets done between working hours, I read other books that are different for a bit of variety and interest. The latest is ‘A life drawing’ by Shirley Hughes the illustrator and later children’s author. It is a good example of never judging a book by its cover as after looking at the pictures throughout I began to read snippets of the text and found that to be far more fascinating.
Some of the anecdotes are obviously of a different era, but they are all so well told that their setting seems familiar and they are brought to life, from the landlady’s recycled ‘toast’ that reappeared five nights in a row (confirmed through chalk markings), to the lodger whose hair departed through shock when he found out the ‘TRUTH ABOUT AUDREY’ on his wedding night.
Just back from Dorset, where in a quest to bounce Red Squirrels I came across a map which can be described as both absolutely accurate yet completely useless.
The wall it is on does align with the path and the photo, and there is only so far that can be walked without getting wet, but it is still a glorious example.