Hello, I'm Chrissie. I can't get over how lucky I am to be living at the seaside - I still love living at Cleveleys after being here for more than 15 years. I hope you enjoy my slightly cock-eyed look at life - come back regularly for a look at living beside the seaside, our mad family life and my view on local and topical current affairs. The weather often features, along with the very different things that you get to see and do when you live somewhere like this.

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You'll Grow into It

In the days before George at Asda, when everything was too big and had to be worn until it wore out...

But first, a bit of chit-chat.

Did anyone get you for April Fools day, we didn’t in our house, Derek has always tried to get me every year but not yesterday he must have forgotten what day it was, something to do with age and grey matter I wonder?

Three days after I fell in the garden on a slimy green path, I’m still aching like mad and the bruises are making themselves felt along with muscles that I didn’t know even existed, but it could have been worse, I could have broken something and that would set the cat among the pigeons! As they say, these things are sent to try us and boy do I get tried!!

Wasn’t it a truly lovely day on Friday with lots of blue skies and sunshine. When we came out of the Regal after the coffee morning, I was surprised by how warm it was and with lots of people out shopping I could have thought it was Summer, it was lovely in Cleveleys when we were dodging about buying our shopping.

Cleveleys town centre 31.3.17

I'm not saying that we were late back at lunchtime, but when we pulled into the drive we were greeted by daft brush Kevin sat on the little stool in the middle of the drive with a knife and fork in his hands, handkerchief tucked into his top like a napkin, waiting for his dinner! 

Kevin waiting for lunch!

The good old days

I saw that Kevin had shared a picture of white tennis pumps on Facebook and commented by how they used to split across the cracks.

Pump whitener

I used to love a new pair of white pumps, they always looked so nice but when mine started to get grubby, out came the ‘white stuff’ that you used to paint on them to make them white again. Guess who got the job of doing that, correct, it was me, and although my sense of neatness and order came into play and I loved to see them look clean again, they never looked like they did when they were new.

After I’d got more of the white stuff on my hands and usually all over me, they were then left to dry as the stuff you put on was wet obviously, but when they had dried oh my goodness, you would have thought they’d been starched.

The canvas went completely stiff and the minute you wore them, where your toes bent over as you walked, all these cracks appeared on the canvas and bits started to fall off like flakes of snow revealing the original grubby shoe underneath. I never wanted to wear them when they’d been whitened, but I had to until they well and truly wore out after being whitened about a million times!

When I was at junior school, we all had to have black pumps for our bit of PE and I loved to go shopping for them. They had a right rubbery smell as the toes were sort of ribbed plastic to protect the end probably to make sure that they never wore out, as in those days you didn’t get new anything until it was dropping to bits, well at least in our house, we had to.

My pumps always seemed a bit too long, probably so that I could ‘grow into them’ as we all used to do unless you were well off in those days which has always puzzled me because by the time you wore them out and as they didn’t last any longer than the correct size, why not get the correct size in the first place.

When I started at Grammar school at the tender age of ten, we had to wear a sort of gymslip tunic and blazer along with an outdoor coat, something like a trench coat only with a hood on (of which I was glad many a time) and guess who looked like her grandma, with her long tunic and mac that was too long and too wide, but as my mum said, ‘I would grow into it'!

We had to have a beret on our heads, the school colours were grey and bright red, so berets were always grey. There were two types, an enormous one with a leather rim on the edge all round it and a softer smaller one with no leather on. Guess who went to school on her first day looking as though an anaemic pancake had landed on her head and just about covered her face, yes, right first time, that was me. Coupled with a leather satchel which we all had that weighed a ton before I put anything in it and was enormous, I must have looked a right tatey when I started Grammar school at ten years old.

However, all’s well that ends well, because after being laughed at for the flying saucer that had landed on my head for several days, my mum went to the outfitters shop (no BHS as was, and Tesco and Asda for cheap stuff in those days) and got me a smaller one minus the leather band, although it did look rather posh, the only trouble was, I didn’t look posh, so you can imagine poor little me looking like I’d turned up in clothes that would fit me when I reached the sixth form and this ‘thing’ stuck up on my head like a chef’s hat.

It makes me shudder just thinking about it, but at least I did start having a growing spurt and soon ‘outgrew’ my over size clothes. When I see children dressed in similar ‘they’ll grow into it’ clothes it still makes me smile all these years later, I wonder if they feel as daft as I did!!

Join me on Facebook at Chrissie Blogger and on Twitter @ChrissiesBlog and share your school uniform stories!

Published: 2nd April 2017
Modified: 2nd April 2017