Laughter and the green fleece.

I am conscious when I look in the mirror or at photographs of myself, that there is a sort of madness in my eyes. It isn't surprising, there's a lot of it in my family, and I try to limit the problems it can create by padding about softly and mingling in society as little as possible. I dislike conflict or other forms of personally directed attention, and where I see signs of it brewing I sink into the margins, lying low like a flatfish just as our Hebe said I should.

I wear quiet colours, most of the time — greys and blues, the colour of shadows and in-between times.

I like this colour palette I saw online — very pleasing; it was called The Druid's Tea Party, and I liked that too.

Several of those are in my wardrobe, also dark blue and deep red. I like the colour palette of this painting Hebe made —

The colours of the landscape, of the moor and the forest and the seashore.

But sometimes another consideration intervenes. About a year ago, when I had a deep emotional shock, I applied colour for healing, surrounding myself with all the strength of the rainbow, the jewel colours of India. They comforted and restored me. And then, I buy most of my clothes second-hand on eBay, or at the tail-end of the sales when prices are reduced right down. So there often is little choice, and if the cut and fit and fabric are right, the colour may not be.

When my children (I have five daughters) were small, they wore party dresses almost the whole of the time. That was because you can get dresses second-hand easily, whereas practical trousers and sweaters tend to get worn out by their first occupant. In the same way, it is easy to buy clothes in hot pink, safety orange, lime green and winter white, and of course you can always get black. But soft greys and muted blues and greens (in the right cut, fit and fabric) present a greater challenge.

So it came about that I bought two second-hand Lands End fleeces on eBay at a very low price; in a fuchsia pink and a strong shade of green.

These two fleeces were a bit big for me, but looked okay over a full skirt. 

However, I went to a church meeting one evening with my husband. I didn't really look at him as we left the house. It was very cold, and we were both wrapped up warm in fleeces and gilets and cosy winter trousers.

Only when we arrived at the meeting and were greeted by gales of laughter and cries of "Oh, bless!" and comments to the effect that we were dressed the same, did I look at him properly, and register that he also was wearing a fleece in a strong shade of green (he wears it most of the time), teamed with navy blue cord trousers and a black gilet (I had on a pair of navy fleece trousers and a dark blue gilet).

I was so startled and taken aback by being suddenly noticed (I rarely am) and by finding myself the centre of attention, that as soon as I returned home I put both that and the strong pink fleece out for donation. I really can't be doing with that level of visibility.

In the morning, having spent a while in my pyjamas, thinking about the weather and wondering what clothes to put on . . . remembering the cries of "Oh, bless!"  . . . accepting that I have no idea what my husband is wearing . . . and don't want to spend time checking, I just think, "What the hey". . . and put on whatever I was wearing yesterday. 

I'm better off without that green fleece, and a lot less visible.