The Comeback

Sometimes I have been known to spend some time over at Etiquette Hell  a blog about manners.  I have long had an interest in this, I collect vintage and current etiquette books from Emily Post to Kate Spade, with many others in between.  There is something so perfect, so charming about good manners.  They are such a background thing, one doesn’t even notice them until they aren’t there.  One of the greatest gifts we can give to children is to teach them good manners.  So good they become automatic.

To have good manners oneself, effortless good manners, means that you can be comfortable in most situations (and make others comfortable in most situations too).  One of the things I struggle with though with manners, is ‘the comeback’.  I invariably resort to nasty (but funny of course!) with my comebacks.  I once came over to my then boyfriends house for a dinner when his unpleasant sister  asked (an obviously dressed up me) what I was going to change into for dinner.  I told her “Well I’m wearing this, but I’m sure you can wear, (long pause) whatever it is you wear.” 

The Miss Manners that Etiquette Hell refer to, say - a good comeback if someone comments on something personal, that they have no right to is “Oh, how kind of you to take an interest” and then turn your back.  I’d love to be able to carry that off with some attitude.  The trouble with the comeback is that a good one doesn’t turn up until after you’ve thought about it for a while.  I think I need to keep a list in my purse, ready to refer to at a moments notice.  Then if someone says something unpleasant  I can say ” Hang on a minute, I’ve got a good list of comebacks for stupid people like you, ahh here it is” and then read the appropriate comment.  Do you think that would work?

Inspiration

 

Sometimes I twist my mind into quite the tizzy - wondering what it all means.  Then sometimes  I realize it doesn’t matter if I don’t know the answer.

This image is from a marvellous blog called  Brocante Home, (if you have the time go visit,  its worth it).

3 cheesecakes short of a muu-muu

Regular readers of my blog will know that in the last 6 months I have managed to go from tubby to fat.  The first two casualties of this unspectacular fight have been my self-esteem and my joy of clothes.   I’m going to harp on about the loss of clothing joy for a moment.  I am now down to a few accommodating skirts, a couple of jumpers, a pair of old-man pants and some tops which I still squeeze myself into.   Herein lies the dilemma.  Do I continue my so-far fruitless battle with my weight and hope to get back into my existing wardrobe, or do I admit that this is the new me and buy clothes in my new, superior size?

The clothes that still fit me are depressing.  They are all in shades of grey and are something that  a matronly 92 year old would probably say are too dowdy for her.  However, I can’t bear the thought of purchasing clothes in my new larger size.  I find no joy in it, no pleasure in clothes shopping, no happiness in how I look.   Where do I start?

Dear Life,

Dear Life, I would just like to know why you have not handed me the deeds to this house on a platter. 

Whilst i’m at it, I would also like to know why you gave me bad hair, crud eyesight and a peculiar taste in clothes.  Please advise.

That is all.  xx Cybill

As usual I cannot remember where I got the photograph from, if it is yours please tell me so I can credit you.

Some sort of supernatural?

Recently I went and viewed a house that was for sale.  It was a lovely house – light and bright, surrounded by gorgeous gardens.  The only thing was it had, what can only be described as an atmosphere.  A nasty, unhappy atmosphere.  It was tangible.  After I left the viewing I started chatting to other people who had gone through the house and we all said the same thing.  Something was off, something was spooky. 

I have had this experience in another house, an old house in my neighbourhood that my sister and I went to look at.  We both went to enter a room and at exactly the same time, we both stopped mid-step and said we were not going to enter that room.  Again, I don’t know what it was, but there was a bad feeling coming from that room. 

My final supernatural experience happened after my friends father died.  I was sitting alone at my friends house and I’m fairly sure (kind of sure) I saw his recently deceased father standing over my friends desk.  My mind did everything it could to explain what I saw, I was dreaming, it was a trick of the light, vibrant imagination, extra grief – anything to give some rational basis to something I couldn’t explain.

Ghosts are a tricky subject.  I don’t really think I believe in them, but I hope they are around – I like the idea of them.  The metaphysical, why shouldn’t it exist?  Has anything unexplained ever happened to you?  Does anyone have any ghost stories to share?

The Spare Man

In September I shall be losing my last Spare Man.  He is a very useful fellow, the Spare Man.  When a girlfriend became unexpectedly single, I was able to say “Its okay there are still fabulous single men out there” and mean it.  I was able to set them up with my spare man for practice flirting – possible dating.  Should my own marriage fail, I knew I had an option waiting in the wings (what other people don’t think like that?!). 

It was all just very reassuring.  I kept him very busy but unfortunately not busy enough, he had time to meet a fabulous woman and they are getting married.  He will be very hard to replace.

The break is over now

Well I think its time to commence blogging again – I’ve had a very refreshing break.  I accomplished a few things whilst I was gone;

• Prepared for international ribbon dancing competition*
• Grew some hazelberries and made prize winning jam*
• Completed ceiling mural in my grand ballroom*
• Lay on couch**

 

* obviously did not happen

** all I did

So I’ll get back to posting a couple of times of week and see how it goes.