On the ferry

On the ferry to Majorca, circa 2013

On the ferry to Majorca, circa 2013


When I was very young I only ever wore dresses.

Not skirts. A dress. I can still remember some of them. At least I think I can. There was the short, purple, flowery one with long-sleeves that I seem to be wearing in every photograph at the time. At the neck, the material was gathered into a soft ruffle, with a narrow pink ribbon tied in a bow. The ribbon had a raised velvet texture on one side, flat on the other. I liked to rub the ribbon between my fingers, the soft nap was comforting.

I often wore my dresses with long white socks.

I loved a new gingham summer dress for school. Then I would wear white ankle socks or no socks if wearing sandals. I remember the warmth of the sun on my bare legs absorbing some heat before a morning spent inside doing lessons.

One dress I remember my Mum made for me. It was an outfit of two layers. The first layer was made from yellow Holly Hobby fabric. A fitted bodice, long sleeves, a round neck, the skirt was full and sat just above my knee. The second layer was a pinafore of navy corduroy.

A memorable car journey involved our dog Kimmy, an Irish Red Setter. She lay on the back seat with me (I think this must’ve been before my sisters were born) her head on my lap. I was wearing my two layered dress. Kimmy didn’t travel well and after awhile lifted her head, started to heave and then threw up all over my dress. I remember looking down and thinking her vomit looked like a raw egg, translucent with a yellow centre. I probably screamed or cried or shouted. There would’ve been a conversation between my Mum and Dad in the front. We pulled over to get me out, the dog out and to clean up the car. The pinafore came off to reveal my nice clean Holly Hobby dress underneath. It was as if nothing had happened.

Feeling brave? Want to share your story? In the words of one Disney princess, Let it go, in the comments below.