Do I Look Phat In These Jeans?

Just before we left for school this morning, I reminded my youngest that he was due to have a little friend over for tea. He went into a mild panic, and appeared to start tidying his bedroom. By the time I had scooped my lower jaw off the carpet, I realised that he wasn’t actually tidying, but feverishly hiding anything that might be considered ‘babyish.’ Teddies, Thomas stuff, and any vaguely ‘pre-school’ toys were dispatched to the cupboard with a ruthless efficiency that would have made Alan Sugar uncomfortable.

This is not the first time that I have witnessed one of my children go through such a Judas-like betrayal of old favourites. Yet again, I had mixed feelings about it. Like most parents, I want my kids to have the courage to ‘be themselves’ but I know that like most children, they just want to fit in and be like everyone else. Still, I had to restrain the urge to throw thirty pieces of silver into his bedroom.

It seems that his classmates are very quick to castigate anyone who hasn’t moved on from one set of heavily marketed merchandise to the next. It’s dispiriting, but maybe it isn’t so different for adults. You only have to look at those misguided fashion-slaves whose stumpy legs were far better served by last year’s comfortable boot-cut jeans than this year’s skinny cropped ones. They have obviously had to ease them on with a warm spoon, but presumably their desire to fit in with the fashionable crowd is stronger than their desire to fit in their jeans.

I am breaking with a long standing Friday night tradition by not opening a bottle of prosecco. Instead, in homage to the balmy summer evening, I have a glass of La Gioisa Pinot Grigio Blush (£4.99 Tesco). It looks gorgeous, and tastes rather satisfyingly of strawberries.

I have something of a love-hate relationship with rosé wine. It frequently leaves me with a headache, but that may have something to do with drinking too much of it while sitting in the sunshine. I have fond memories of picnics in my late teens, when my friends and I would cool a bottle of Mateus Rosé in a nearby stream. I wonder if it has now become fashionably retro to have empty Mateus bottles as candle holders, dripping with melted wax. About twenty years ago, no self-respecting trattoria was seen without them.

As someone who appears more fat than Phat in her jeans, I am likely to be considered retro rather than cutting edge. Last week, I inadvertently referred to an ‘LP’ instead of a CD, in front of some Bright Young Things, causing gales of mirth, and instantly reducing my status to that of dinosaur. I should have added that if we put the wireless on, we could listen to the Hit Parade.