Too Ridiculous for Words

I’ve realised recently that the word, ‘ridiculous,’ is one I use pretty often (along with, ‘exactly’ and, ‘absolutely,’ which irritated my husband so much that he had a t-shirt printed for me with the words on, spelt phonetically) 'Ridiculous' is usually uttered with a roll of the eyes and a look of despair, frequently in relation to a member of the current Conservative government, or in response to some petty rule that I really think is irrelevant. 

Over the years, I’ve become something of an expert on all things ridiculous. Let’s face it, I’ve been pretty ridiculous numerous times in my life, not least because of my fashion (mis)sense.  Looking back I’ve made a few ridiculous errors of judgment where clothes are concerned. There are numerous occasions where I might have slightly misjudged the ‘dress code.’  Having said that, I’m a great believer in wearing what you want (within reason) and not having to conform to somebody else’s ideas of ‘appropriate’ dress. When I started teaching I was pulled up twice on my attire. 

The first time, at the school I was on teaching practice, I’m willing to admit, in hindsight, and with thirty more years of sartorial experience behind me, there was an element of ‘ridiculousness’ about the outfit. It was a brightly coloured jumpsuit that I’d made for myself out of a pair of children’s curtains. Yes, I know. But it went down well with the seven year olds I was teaching. The deputy head obviously drew the short straw. He came to me after school one day and talked about maths, PE and the weather, before averting his eyes and mentioning - oh so awkwardly - that I might wear something different the following day.  

The second time was in my first teaching job where the headteacher and I had developed a kind of love-hate relationship. She would compliment me on my dangly earrings one day, then pull me aside the next, to tell me that my red ski pants (yes, they were in fashion in the early 80s) were inappropriate.  I disagreed, but, in order to keep my job, I went into tailored black pants the following day, and very quickly became a Stepford Teacher (with a few ridiculous additions - the green Doc Martins, the mad earrings, and the brightly coloured tops).  I was too much of a rebel to be completely converted. 

I’m sure, if I flick through some of our earlier photo albums, I’ll find plenty of examples of ridiculous outfits, but, to be honest, they were just a bit of fun to me. My mum assures me that I was never conventional, even as a child. When I got into my early teens and bought myself an age 8 Ladybird kilt (how on earth did it fit?) and a pair of red tap shoes to wear ‘down the high road’ on a Saturday afternoon I thought I was the bee’s knees. My best friend had an identical outfit, and I’m sure we were the focus of many ‘ridiculous’ comments. At the time, it was probably what we loved about those trips. 

My sense of humour is frequently activated by  sights or situations which could be accurately described as ridiculous.  I’m lucky to have friends and family who see the world in a similar way. One of the most ridiculous sights I’ve ever seen occurred on an aircraft. I was with my daughter and it doesn’t take much to set us off.  As we sat down to wait for take off a little scene began to unfold before us. Now, I am nosy (I like to call it curious) but my daughter is the opposite, and can’t understand my interest in other people and their lives. As she settled down to have little sleep, I listened in to the couple in front. What I ascertained was that they were work colleagues, off to some sort of conference. It was obvious they didn’t know each other very well, as the conversation was, at first, somewhat stilted.  The female was quite young, possibly early twenties, and the male was older, probably in his forties. He wanted to impress, and spent the whole journey talking about himself and his many achievements. Being a polite young girl his colleague nodded and put in the odd, complimentary comment as we flew towards London. 

When we landed the male seemed reluctant for the conversation to end, and I heard him asking if the girl would like to go with him for a drink.  I got the impression she wasn’t very keen but obviously was too shy or too inexperienced to say no. I woke up my daughter and quickly filled her in on the conversation I’d overheard. She was polite enough to feign interest as we stood up to get our luggage.  The couple in front also began to gather their things together and get their coats on.  I noticed the man, still talking, was struggling with his jacket, which was a short, bomber style affair. As passengers started to alight, the man continued to try and impress the girl, mentioning expensive clubs and restaurants - whist still wrestling with his jacket.  It was their turn to join the queue, and I was relieved to see he’d eventually managed to get the jacket on. Except that it was upside down. Hence the struggle. And hence the rather strange arm movements he was exhibiting as he descended the steps.  The girl was oblivious, I’m guessing she was working on an escape plan, and the man, although obviously uncomfortable, ploughed on with his monologue. 

My daughter and I noticed the problem at exactly the same time. We looked at each for a few seconds before bursting into  uncontrollable laughter. We followed behind, trying desperately to keep up, whilst also trying to stifle the outburst. We couldn’t. It was too funny: the man desperately trying to impress his bored young colleague whilst walking beside her in an upside down jacket. The more we looked at him the louder we laughed. He turned at one point to throw us a questioning look, but that just made us laugh all the more.  We followed him towards the baggage hall, not wanting to miss his discovery of the faux pas.  Sure enough, as we rounded a bend, he stopped, looked down at himself, stole a glance at the girl, and in one swift move, whipped off the jacket, turned it around the correct way and put it back on. This happened many years ago, when Blackpool airport was still open and flying planes to London, but my daughter only has to ask me if I remember the man in the upside down jacket and we’re both back on that plane and doubled up with laughter. 

For me, I think that incident pretty much defines the word, ‘ridiculous’ in all it’s forms: older man trying to impress young girl; older man trying to prolong the conversation by offering drinks; and, above all, older man in upside down jacket trying to sound like Mr Big.  I wonder what happened to them? Maybe they’re married now. If they are, I really hope they wore their wedding clothes upside down or, at least, inside out. 

I Started a Poem  by Jill Reidy

I started a poem

About all things ridiculous 

I listed them

Rolling my eyes

Tutting 

Judging

And laughing to myself 

I went to town on 

Make up

Fashion

And lots more 

And then

I realised 

That, over the years 

I’d been guilty of so many 

Of those things I deemed 

Ridiculous.

The sparkling pink eye shadow 

That sprinkled glitter down my cheeks 

Made me look like I’d been crying 

The skirt, too tight, too short

Revealing legs too fat 

Lips I tried to plump with stinging gel

Carefully outlined and painted shiny red

The too high shoes I couldn’t walk in 

The clompy mules on giant platforms

The baggy harem pants

And the skin tight jeans 

Leggings stretched to bursting

Tights like Nora Batty’s

Oh and the hair

The pink, the purple, the rainbow hues

And finally, the huge, Deirdre Barlow glasses

That make a spectacle of myself.

So I didn’t write the poem.  I decided it was just too ridiculous for words....

 Thanks for reading.......... Jill