Last weekend I was such a nanna. Usually when I say this, I mean I spent the evening at home sprawled on the couch watching TV, trying not to fall asleep before 8:30pm and making peace with the fact that I can’t drink more than half a glass of wine before I feel a bit drunk and woozy. But last weekend I was not at home. I was at a friend’s 30th birthday party dressed like some kind of Mrs Doubtfire/old lady from Tweety bird cartoons hybrid. Stunning. I know. It was time to show ourselves off in all our op shopped glory. I never realised how liberating it is…
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I wear your granddad’s clothes…
image So next weekend Mr Unprepared and I are attending a 30th birthday party. The theme is to dress as a Granny or a Grandpa (you know – to symbolise the fact that the guest of honour is getting OLD). In other words, we are asked to go wearing our finest hilarious “old people” outfits. I think right about here would be the part where my mum would want me to mention that despite being grandparents now, they are not old. Not old at all. In any way. That we must be dressing as members of OUR grandparents’ generations. Not hers or Dad’s. In any way. In fact, I feel…