U3A Writing: An Article Of Clothing
In this amusing article Cynthia Bloxsidge tells the amusing story of a fake leopard-skin jacket.
It was a gift from my sister. She dressed in a rather stagey style, so I was not surprised when she gave me this fake leopard-skin jacket; not surprised, just mortified.
She said it would keep me warm when rounding up the sheep. It was a little cold in the foothills of the mountains, but if the sheep had seen me in that jacket they would have stampeded into those same hills.
It had its uses.
We had been petitioning the State Electricity Commission for seven years, and at last the kerosene lamps were given the toss. To celebrate, a Lighting Up Ball was planned, with a hired dance band, casserole supper and a few skits to be performed by the local thespians.
My rather shy husband and our equally shy neighbour were so dazzled by the lights that they agreed to re-enact Sir Robert and Dame Patty Menzies being presented to the Queen on the occasion of Sir Robert’s award of the Order of the Thistle, and Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports.
Few of us knew what a Cinque Port was. There were no Arab terrorists about then. A length of tartan was found for Sir Robert to drape over the shoulder of his navy blue suit. Dame Patty was suitably attired in a satin nightgown, a cardboard tiara liberally covered in Alfoil, and the leopard skin jacket.
As for Her Majesty, she scrubbed up rather well, but with no sword to ‘dub’ Sir Robert, an axe from the wood heap was pressed into service. No problem with the Scottish Thistle - we had some magnificent specimens in the hay paddock.
Dame Patty, with complete disregard for protocol, sat down in front of Her Majesty on the chair where the thistle was reclining! It was a very lively performance.
The jacket was then retired to a box under someone’s bed until my sixteen-year-old daughter decided she would make a carry bag out of the flared back portion. Fourteen-year-old daughter said that she had that idea first! After the brawl, the two didn’t speak for several weeks. It was so peaceful.
The carry bag turned out a bit ordinary and was given a decent burial. That left the two fronts, two sleeves and a collar. Would this wretched garment haunt us forever?
Then some idiotic child gave my equally idiotic son a kitten which he smuggled home on the school bus. The remains of the jacket made a warm bed, but seemed to have some strange physiological effect on the moggy, as it would sit on the verandah rail waiting for someone to walk down the front steps, where it would spring onto their back.
What happened to the remains of the jacket-cum-cat-bed? That is beyond memory. More then likely, on a very dark night, it slunk away into the hills. Leopards don’t change their spots.
