Watching nature take its course, from the top of a hill in northern England


Getting It Off My Chest

If the cups fits buy it, or better still buy three. Buying a new bra is a pain.

You never know if you have been sold a pup or a show dog.

The problem is you have to go past the point of no return and wear the thing before you know if it is the start of a beautiful friendship, or if its heading for the back of the undies draw never to see the light of day again (price is no guide either £12.00 or £50.00 it makes difference)You have to wear if for a few days, before you can fully suss its personality; which will mean you are committed, you can’t take it back. In fact some don’t give up the fight till they have taken a few turns around the washing machine (hand wash only? I don’t think so.) before they are ‘broken in’

What is comfortable in the changing room, no, not ‘room’; make that a small ‘crevice’, with either a flimsy flappy curtain or a saloon style half door between your dignity , and exposure to the rest of rural market town. Taken the wrong size in? Then get dressed again to go out and find they don’t have the next size up or down.

The nub of the problem is what is a good fit and style; standing in the ‘crevice’ isn’t necessarily good for life as it is, for mucking out the hen house, washing fox poo off the dog or getting on with life in general

I don’t want to spend my day lashed down in a ‘bustenclammper’ sports bra (for heavens sake, I like pretty things as much as the next girl.)

Why is a bra like a sheep dog? It rounds things up and points them in the right direction.

I just want a comfortable new bra, one that doesn’t nip at me like a Jack Russell, or that slips and twists and generally makes a nuisance of itself

So it is for that reason I abandon the high street clones and head for the serious, and rather frumpy looking establishment on the hill, it’s been established for over a hundred years, and has a solid and dependable presence; with etched glass door panels, dark wood cabinets with draws that contain all sorts of mysterious ‘drapery’ items and a large sweeping staircase with brass stair rods leading up to the ‘Ladies Lingerie and Corsetry dept’ (I nearly fled when I read the corsetry bit, as time passes my body may be doing a bit of redistribution, but I am not intending to seek out corsetry!)

To my delight I am not met by a Mrs Slocombe type assistant, (this shop has more than a little of the ‘Are You Being Served’ atmosphere) but a lady who knows her stock and can suss her customer’s needs in a jiffy. I am dispatched to the spacious changing room at the rear of the department with an arm full of candy colored style’s to try.

The changing room is as big as an average bathroom, so much space I could if I wanted, I could do a few star jumps or a bit of jogging on the spot to put the garment through its paces; but with so many mirrors revealing so many angles it is probably wisest not go there. A polite enquiring voice at the door, offers me a further fist full to try, oh joy oh bliss.

With practicality, comfort and vanity now in harmony, I make my purchase and go home a happy bunny. You can see why they have been in business for so long, they may even win ‘best in show’. Still not comfortable with the word corsetry though!