Damn it! Every other time I have curry for dinner I end up with a dollop of yoghurt in my lap.
This was a new skirt. Well, not new, but new for me.
I tried paper towel, but the skirt is more absorbent, so I was just working it in, then I tried a damp sponge. Now I'm just cold and damp in the groinal region, and have no idea whether I've done the right thing.
I did woodwork and metalwork at school. I've never needed, in any intensive way, to work either wood or metal. Bless you if you have, but even in the 80s these were not so much preparation for adult life as initiation into a culture.
I popped the button on my nice pinstripe trousers recently and I've not sewed it back on because I'm an old lady with poor eyesight and unsteady hands, but also because I was never initiated into the practical arts and I know I'll make a dreadful mess of it.
I dearly hope the other girls in my school learned something useful in the home economics classrooms on the other side of the quad. Because playing performative masculinity on a lathe is, statistically speaking, no f***ing use to anybody.
All the boys (and some of the girls) in my generation were schooled in the kind of peacock uselessness that assumes you'll always have a woman somewhere nearby to do the stuff that needs doing, while you stand around the open bonnet of a car with your mates talking about carburettors or whatever.