Here I am again with a skeleton from my closet.

When I was thirteen years old, my mum asked me if I would do a favour for friend of hers, she told me this lady was going to give her daughter a surprise party for her fourteenth birthday, she wanted me to go to a dressmaker called Mrs Fenton who lived in Dale Street, and tell her what sort of dress I would like to wear if it was my party. Well the little brat that I was at the time, (my first twinge of envy) I gave the most hideous description of a dress, Pink silky material with a frill at the hem, frills around short puffed sleeves and another frill around a squared neck a bodice with a broad sash and a big bow in the back. Something not to be seen dead in!.

Little did I know the party was for me! It was held at Dale Street Sunday School hall. You can imagine how I felt on my birthday being told about my Birthday party by my mum and being presented with “THAT dress!” I never said a word, and had to wear the dress, I was so embarrassed.

That day I told myself I would never be jealous again of anyone or anything and I never have.

I have never told this story to anyone until yesterday when I told it to my husband of forty five years, We were watching James Bonds “A view to kill”, Miss Moneypenny was going to the races, she was wearing a dreadful pink dress, you guessed it, it was so similar to the one I had described all those years ago, my awful Birthday dress.

Marion Ross (nee Fox)