Menopausal Morris Musings

First posted June 2009

Chauffeuring Fester this morning I heard a trailer on the radio for Menopause the Musical at the Journal Tyne Theatre this week.   

It put me in mind of a conversation I had when Tyne Bridge Morris danced at Morpeth Gathering this spring.

Standing the market place after lunch putting clogs on Madame Fifi and I started discussing being women of a certain age.

“One good thing about getting older” commented Madame Fifi 

“is you can’t see yourself as clearly in a mirror unless it’s a magnifying one, so you don’t see the wrinkles, or the bristles.  You know what it is?  I’ve been blonde all me life, how come the hairs sprouting from me chin are all black?”

I agreed “My hair’s going grey, there are great thick white ones in my eyebrows, but like you the one’s coming up on my chin are all black.”

“Aye” says Madam Fifi “some days I feel like the bearded lady.  And what’s with eyebrows, I’ve never had to pluck mine, being blonde, but now they’re all thick and wiry, curly even.”

“I pluck out the white ones and trim mine with my Dad’s old moustache scissors – when I can find me glasses” I confessed “but on the other hand all my armpit hair is thinning.”

“So’s mine” then whispering conspiratorially “and down there” pointing appropriately “mind you, me shins are a different story.”

“Tell me about it, mine are starting to look like a pit pony’s, it’s a good thing we wear black tights.”

“Maybe it’s gravity, all the hairs moving downhill.”

“Yes, by the time we’re 80 we’ll have totally hairy feet”

“I already do” chimed in Little Miss Fiddle who’d been listening to all this “and hairy toes.”

Seeing as she’s barely 5ft, it was only the diminutive size of her feet that stopped us believing she was a hobbit, so we weren’t entirely surprised.

I’ve often thought Hot Flush Morris would be a good name for a team, but have always been vetoed.