Day eleven – the memory of material
Today I have been forced to realise the necessity and importance of ones memory. The terrifying knowledge of how it is that Ryanair has been able to make a killing when all other airlines flag and hover in their ever-expanding flight path has become painfully clear to me.
As we bumbled around on our last day in the Northern most parts of Ireland I could not help but notice that the frequency of calls from my father increased along with a rather unnecessary impatience for further details of tomorrows flight. After having told him nearly five times what time we were due to leave and or get in I answered his sixth call rather snappily. I soon checked my attitude when I noticed he had changed his tone to his most severe “I am very disappointed with your lack of ability to behave responsibly” tone. Using this most fearsome of the tools of parenthood at his disposal he uttered the breath winding words, “Elinor, your flight was yesterday.”
As the boy watched I found my face going slowly redder. I would like to pretend it was because we were finally in a place of heat but the truth is I was mortally embarrassed as I hate being called Elinor. My christian name is usually followed by bad news or a severe telling off and this evening proved to be no exception.
To fly back tomorrow, we have had to commit to rising at dawn in the icy winds from the arctic cottage, and travel with my fantastic uncle who has volunteered to take us to Londonderry airport to board our £154 flight. The plane will likely be half full as at this time of the week it is usually only idiots like ourselves and business people who will be flying. You have to give it to O’Leary, he really does find ever new and interesting ways to screw you. Perhaps he should start a Kama Sutra for his fellow business pals, “Screwed by Sugar” could be a title to which he lends his endorsement and inspiration.
Now I have had my rant, and quite satisfying it was too, we get to the point and subject of today’s blog. We have before looked at how enjoyable it can be to wear the clothes of a mother or friend, today I wanted to explore the pleasures of wearing clothes to which we have attached a certain memory. 
Ireland is the place of my very first kiss, and although I have always claimed it was to my first boyfriend who I dated for about six Summer days and kissed all of about three times, it was in-fact to his younger brother during a game of spin the bottle.
The eventual official first kiss was wonderfully cheesily romantic. All teeth clashing and nervous head tilting smiles. That summer I was wearing a red and white t-shirt which I had bought from saving up my allowance from New Look, and the T-shirt I am wearing underneath this dress reminds me of the day and the experience.
The dress itself is from french connection, bought for £20 in the sale nearly two and a half years ago. Gold and embellished it fits quite nicely in with recent trends and the shift is fantastically flattering for ladies who are a tad curvy wurvy. The t-shirt plays it down from being too dressy and worn as I did today with a clutch belt and thin cashmere DKNY top it saved me from the cold and helped the shore walk to be as pleasant as it could be on such a cold day.
The last time I wore the dress was on my birthday this year to meet some friends from my NCTJ course in the pub. I had taken a few days away from the course after dramatically fainting in front of a senior member of UKIP, I was filming the press conference at the time, and it was important for me to put on a brave face when I saw my colleagues again. Wearing it with a long grey cashmere cardigan, clincher belt and gold pointed kitten heels, in spite of feeling extremely self-conscious as I left the house in a taxi, by the time I arrived I felt more confident and less like a fragile child than I had done since the incident.
It’s never easy showing your vulnerable side and the memory of the last time I had worn the dress, to a successful interview, helped me when I wore it again to meet my friends and colleagues. As I put it on today I felt comforted by the memories of the previous days, and as I sit here now feeling guilty and foolish for missing my flight the dress acts as a comfort blanket whilst simultaneously reminding me of the strength of character which I can summon when needs be. As a result I feel a little more able to face my Dad tomorrow whatever the tone of voice may be.
