How typical. It started to rain (for the first time in weeks) just as the youngest exited the changing rooms for his first appearance on the rugby pitch…and it stopped just as the match finished and we got back to the car. Haven’t we been spoilt this summer with the fabulous sunny days that seem to have lasted pretty much since the end of June? Anyway grey skies, rugby matches, this will be my life on Saturdays until about Easter, ‘such fun’ as Miranda would say.

Rugby has long been a fly in the ointment of my life. It began at the very same pitches I stand on now when my boyfriends were boarders at the school my sons go to and the only way I could see them on a Saturday was to watch them play. It continued when I met Mr MC and we worked really hard all week so the only way I could see him on a Saturday was to …watch him play. He gave up last year but now with my sons taking on the conch the only way to see them on a Saturday is to…watch them play. It’s a game that men and boys seem to give their hearts and souls to and make a priority over everything else. In fact we could only have a 4 day honeymoon because we had a winter wedding and Mr MC had already made the ultimate sacrifice by taking a Saturday off for the ceremony! So it was with a mixture of a heart lift and a heart sink that I watched my little one run onto the pitch – and classic pathetic fallacy when it began to rain. The eldest was also playing his first match back after massive shoulder reconstruction surgery in January – fast, scary upper sixth rugby against the same school, but as an away fixture so thankfully I couldn’t watch.

Here’s a bit of a bedraggled pic of what I was wearing – please admire the chic pound shop emergency umbrella that I managed to purchase before the match and note that it is leopard print! (also note how wet my tan boots are from the grass, they now need some TLC). I was shoulder-robing the blazer because although wet, it was warm.

autumn outfits

Anyway the match was chaos – the boys had had a total of 3 weeks’ training so it was like herding cats with half of them running the wrong way, but it was very entertaining. Halfway through, my tweet about being posh started going a little bit viral (thanks lovely readers FlakyFashionista, MrsSarahRichard, CatInEssex and usa2uk, hugs and kisses to you all). I was itching to join in but – get this – said 13 year old ‘posh boy’ took my phone off me saying it was the ultimate in bad manners to tweet when I was supposed to be watching rugby. No words for it! (If you’re wondering what I’m talking about you may need to catch up with my posh post from Friday).

So with the match over we got home and I was just about to go and do my stint at a fundraising event for the village Church roof when the phone rang. It was the eldest ringing to tell me that his shoulder had survived the match fine but that he was having a ‘bit of trouble with his thumb’ and would probably need to pop to A&E on his way back from school. A momentary gritting of teeth from me, followed by gratitude that it wasn’t something worse and I continued with my good deed for the day.

When I got back he still wasn’t home. I called him – yes he was in A&E – no it was nothing, I didn’t need to come, he’d probably go to KFC when he was finished and get the bus home. Two hours later – “I think you might need to come Mum – they need your permission for surgery.” It turns out he had both dislocated and broken the thumb in 3 places, however, he’d asked someone to ‘put it back in’ before he got back on the coach home. This meant it also now needed to be repositioned as it wasn’t remotely straight any more. So, to cut a long story short, another long, tricky operation to insert 3 wires into the base of the thumb. His first words when he saw the surgeon? “So how long is it until I can play again?!” Hence it has been a stressful few days working out how he is going to manage his A Level work over the next few weeks (it’s his right hand), whether he can go on his trip to Iceland in October which involves ice climbing on glaciers and generally reminding him (and myself) that life just isn’t fair sometimes!

Otherwise, a couple of outfits for you. Yesterday I met up with a real life Midlifechic reader which was just a lovely way to start the week. She has recently launched a clothing brand which I’ll tell you more about soon but we spent a couple of hours chatting about life over 40; clothes; blogs; in fact it was very therapeutic, a bit like “Midlifechic Live” – maybe we need to plan an event! One conclusion we came to was that a well dressed woman over 40 has more impact than a well dressed woman over 20 because she stands out amongst her peers more. It sounds like the subject for a debate doesn’t it – perhaps it’s something we should discuss. This is what I wore (I’m going to use two scarily large shots because I want to show you both the gold zip and the ruching detail):



  • Dress: Whistles (Spring 2014)
  • Shoes: Boden

Sadly Whistles don’t seem to have any Winter dress stock in yet but I’ll let you know if I see anything similar and don’t forget there’s 25% off Whistles with Grazia this week – code WH25AW14 ends Monday 6th October.

Finally today’s outfit for a dressed down day in the office:


As I finish typing, the middle son has come home filled with joy to tell me that he has a rugby match tomorrow night. Big sigh. I shall now pledge not to moan about rugby every week for the rest of the season, I’ve got it off my chest but there may just be a little grumble every now and then. But going back to yesterday’s topic, what do you think – does a well dressed woman over 40 have more impact than a younger one? If so, let’s go for it ladies, your thoughts in the comments box please.