Coloured Dresses Have Rights Too

As a Kings Inns student you need to attend at least 10 dinners in the year. Don’t ask me what’s involved, but I’m thinking a lot of schmoozing and networking. Needless to say, a girl’s got to have a lot of dresses if she’s expected to go to all these dinners. For those of you asking why I don’t just rotate between 5 or 6..I ask you, are you sane? Are you a guy? Probably yes on both counts. It would be more sensible, it would be the option most men would be in favour of; but such a decision would be nothing short of the kiss of death for any fashion conscious young woman. Or old woman for that matter! Although in the case of the latter it could be reasonably put down to senility, or alzheimers, or diabetes, or toothlessness and the like. I am not yet old. Luckily, I have many dresses. Apparently though, as I was kindly informed last night by Flatmate-Aine (that’s pronounced Awn-yaa) who conveniently has just finished the course I’m starting, dress code for these dinners comprises of 1 word – Black! Black dress, suit, trousers, skirt, hotpants…they’ll all do. Main thing is though, that you must look like you’re in mourning. I didn’t really take this news very well. I like colour. In fact, I enjoy looking like I’m alive, or at least looking like everyone I’m related to is still alive. Was just looking through my wardrobe, and I have a feeling I’m going to be needing a lot more black! In fact, my current shopping list looks a little something like this:
5 Black Dresses
1 Black Trouser Suit
1 Black Skirt Suit
1 Pair of Black High Heels
1 Pair of Black Flat Shoes
It is at times like this that I must confess, it would be much easier to be a man! In fact, this new turn of affairs has put a bit of a damper on these dinners everyone’s been raving about. To be quite truthful, I’m having second thoughts about how suitable a career with such a bland dress code is for me!
You know what though? Black is black, but black does not have to be boring!! I can accessorise, and most importantly, I do believe that technically a dress code does not cover the colour of shoes. And I have just as many coloured shoes as I do dresses. Red, Gold, Pink, Silver, Green; watch out Kings Inns, my feet are not going to be boring! Now this is getting interesting. It’s almost like a little game; how many attractive outfits can I pull off while sticking to the dress code? And if all fails, what can they really do if I do turn up in a red dress?? They may call it a dress code, but I can easily call it discrimination. Coloured-dresses have rights too, and I’m all for upholding them! Until next time.

First Day In Dublin

Well, first day here. Got the 7 am train from Cork with my cat, my laptop, a suitcase that took 3 grown men to lift, and about a million other things. Can't believe I made it up here alive!
But, I did! And I've even registered.
Don't know if I'll be able to survive the year though. Surrounded by pompous, pretentious, annoying people who think they're something just because they're in Kings Inns. Hello!! It's not that big a deal!
Oh, the things I had to listen to today...
"Ah, yes...blah blah blah the Italian 150 euro jacket I bought for Kings Inns."
Ok, sorry, but...150 euro? That's cheap for a nice jacket!!!!
And what about the guy who thinks the world spins for him:
"Oh, looks like I had nothing to worry about, well or so the results showed. Yadda Yadda Blah Blah *cue rolling of eyes and smug expression* I'm so wonderful I'd love to smother myself with chocolate and lick it all off I'm just so amazing."
Ok, I may be exaggerating, but that's the extent that this particular person loves himself. Let's call him 'Bighead'. I have a feeling I'll be writing about him alot. The urge to take my gown and strangle him with it is almost, I say almost, too much to ignore. Still though, suppose I must just ignore him and let him live out his egotistical life in peace...if only for the sake of chocolate spread makers worldwide.

Until next time..

Chasm Of Fire

Irina Tweedie writes in "Chasm Of Fire":
"I recalled particularly, on a day of trembling luminousity, of sparkly transparency, that he was already seated outside when an Indian village woman came to him. She was small, very thin, her face wrinkled and shrunken, as if dried up by the merciless sun and the hot winds of the plains. She was telling an endless, sorrowful litany of her troubles. Illnesses, misery, the death of her husband and most of her children. Now she was alone, useless, nobody needed her, she had nothing to hope for, nothing to live for...
...And she came out with the question which seemed to burn, scorching her trembling lips: 'Maharaj, why did God create this world so full of troubles? Why did he create me to endure all these sufferings?' I saw him lean forward, a shimmering light in his eyes, the light of compassion I knew and loved so well. His voice was soft when he answered:
'Why has He created the world? That you should be in it! Why has He created you? He is alone; He needs you!'
Never will I forget the broad, blissful smile on that lined emaciated face when she was walking away. She went happy in the knowledge that she was not alone, not really, for God needed her to keep Him company because He too was alone...
...Only a very great soul could have expressed so simply and convincingly one of the Great mysteries to a naive, childlike village woman. The Ultimate Metaphysical Truth; that He who is Alone and Perfect, in order to realise His Perfection, created the Universe..."