Sunday Best

“Mum can I go to the cinema on Sunday?” Ryan asked.

“Not this Sunday I'm afraid. We've been invited to Melanie's for Sunday lunch.”

“Ooh.” he frowned. “Who's Melanie?”

“My boss, at work.” his mother replied.

“That's gonna be boring. You'll just be talking about work all the time.”

“We probably will, and you'll just have to be quiet and polite.”

“Hmm.” Ryan frowned. “Can I go to the cinema on Saturday instead then?”

“I'm afraid not.” his mother said. 

“Oh why?”

“Because Melanie is expecting you to be dressed for Sunday, which means we need to go shopping for Sunday best.”

“What?!” Ryan remarked. “You don't like Sunday best!”

“I know but Melanie specifically asked if you'd be dressed for Sunday and I said you would, so it's either...”

“Why did you say that?!”

“Lots of boys dress for Sunday these days.”

“Yeah but they're all mummy's boys... and I remember you specifically saying that you didn't like Sunday clothes!”

“Well I don't really... but it's not everyday we get invited to my boss's house for dinner.” his mother told him. Ryan huffed. “I just want to make the best impression and I want you to be on your very best behaviour.”

“If I went to the cinema you wouldn't have to worry about my behaviour and you could make the best impression on your own.” Ryan diplomatically suggested.

“Melanie's keen to meet you and I’ve told told her you'll be going.” his mother reiterated. “What film were you wanting to see anyway?”

“Furiosa Four.”

“Well maybe you could see it next weekend.” his mother suggested. “It'll still be on.”

“But my mates are going this weekend.”

“Well I'm sorry but you can't. We've got lunch on Sunday and shopping on Saturday.”

“But you don't like Sunday best.” Ryan mournfully reminded his mother. 

“I'm kind of coming around to it. I've been looking at lots of different styles online. Some of them aren't so bad.”

“I'd rather wear a Sunday dress.” Ryan grumped.

“Really?”

“No!” he snorted.

“I was going to say.” his mother replied.

“Why can't I just wear a shirt and trousers?” Ryan asked. “Long trousers.” he added.

“Because 'dressed for Sunday' means either Sunday best or a Sunday dress and that's what Melanie's expecting.”

“So you're just sucking up to your boss even though you don't like Sunday best?”

“I'm trying to make the best impression and I've told her that you'll be dressed for Sunday so it's either Sunday best or a Sunday dress. The choice is yours.”

“Well if it's up to me I won't go at all. I'll go to the cinema instead, with my friends.”

“That's not happening this Sunday Ryan.” his mother told him, in no uncertain terms.

~o0o~

Work Experience

  Being in my fifth and final year of high school, I had to do one week of work experience and my mother said I could do it at the agency she manages. the other kids in my class did similar; one working with his dad on a building site, another at his mother's pie shop, one at the factory his dad works at... so there was nothing all out of the ordinary that I'd do my week at the travel agency where my mother works. It's on the high street in town and most people only see the shop on the ground floor. What they don't realise is on the two floors about are two busy telesales offices where the 'girls' make and take bookings. That's where Mum works and that's where I'd be working too. There were some forms to fill in for insurance and what-not that had to be signed by parents, teachers and the employer, plus guidelines to adhere to... and once all that was sorted, Mum told me that since all the 'girls' wear tights and heels, I would too.

Of course I was mortified, convinced she was teasing me to begin with... but it was 1985 and if an employer said that their staff must wear three inch stilettos, tights and a skirt suit then that's what their staff had to wear. And since many such places were staffed solely by women, there was no such thing as a male dress code, at least not where my Mum worked anyway.

Mum had me practising in high heels for over a month beforehand; every day after school and all day on Saturday, and that's when she made me try on some tights and a dress too. I hated the tights but Mum said I'd get used to them, and they did feel a lot better once I had shaved my legs which, somewhat ironically I thought, Mum told me I wouldn't need tights. "What?!" I exclaimed. "You told me to shave my legs so my tights wouldn't itch and now I've shaved my legs you're telling me that I don't have to wear tights now?" I ranted.