sparkling

It was nearly time for the fencing Christmas dinner. A little late, perhaps - I'd taken down my Christmas tree the previous day - but the fencing club tradition includes a Christmas dinner when the holiday season had ended.

I hadn't exactly solved my fashion dilemma but I'd reached an accommodation with it, thanks to the discovery of an old, but quite well-cut, black wool dress in the back of my wardrobe. I bought it years ago to look smart in an understated sort of way and thought it might be possibly to add something glittery. I planned to buy a red scarf to go with my new red handbag, or something in pale grey and silver, so that I could wear my new grey shoes. As I hate shopping, I found excuses to avoid trips to the shops, thinking I could leave it a day or two. Then work got busy in the week of the dinner and I hadn't bought the scarf I wanted. I settled on a green shawl with sparkly thread and added long sparkly earrings with a matching necklace. I even found my old make-up bag. There was some powder left, the lipstick hadn't broken and the mascara still worked! I felt remarkably lucky. It must be nearly six months since I last wore make-up - probably on my trip to see Cyrano de Bergerac at the Comedie Francaise. By the time I'd stepped into my black high-heeled shoes I felt almost glamorous.

It didn't last of course. An old dress, a shawl, some jewellery and make-up were never going to compete with the colourful cocktail dresses on display. I felt a bit like the dowager aunt or the governess in the corner when I saw all the frocks. The men were peacocking too, with their bow ties, dinner jackets and colourful waistcoats. I wondered if I should sit with the children and waved at a young fencer, shyly elegant in red, who was present with her father. But one of the epeeists called hallo from the bar, following this with the welcome words, "What would you like?" With a glass of wine in my hand, I began to relax.

The meal was better than I'd expected and the kitchen staff, learning I was one of the two vegetarians, were quick to assure me that the potatoes had been roasted in oil and the Yorkshire puddings cooked in butter. There was a good range of vegetables to go with my quorn fillet and the meal brought back memories of the sort of meals my family used to enjoy on special Sundays: good, filling food in lavish quantities. I had melon with sorbet to start and crumble to finish, followed by coffee.

But no-one goes to the fencing dinner just for the meal. There was a quiz and there were awards so it was a time of celebration. I joined others sitting at my table for the quiz and found that I knew some things that my fellow team-members didn't. Usually I contribute literary knowledge but this time my successes include correct answers to questions on sport (In which year did a British man last win the singles title at Wimbledon?), science (How is ascorbic acid better known?) and pop music (Which was the highest selling British single of 2008?). I hope my knowledge took the sabreurs in the team by surprise as it certainly startled me. When the answers were checked it turned out that we had won. So I began the year with a fencing-related victory, even if it didn't involve any swordplay. But the sense of friendship and camaraderie was better than the food or winning the quiz.

A lavish dinner with wine may not be the best preparation for the fencing season but, as I teetered home through the frost, I felt it had been a good night out.

As for those quiz questions, it's easy enough to find out the answers to the sport and science questions. And here's a clue to the pop question though unfortunately the composer and performer on the video didn't reach number one with his version of the song.

but what shall I wear ...?

The fencing club dinner approaches. I don't go every year but this year. budgeting carefully, I chose it over the slightly more expensive work Christmas dinner. The food won't be so good (the venue has unadventurous ideas on what vegetarians eat) but I'll enjoy the company and won't feel compelled to be on my best behaviour. But this sets up a difficult problem. The dinner has a dress code.

Last year the rules were simple: no jeans or trainers. A simple blouse and skirt sufficed. But the committee, perhaps overpowered by the vision of elegance so many created last year, have come up with a stricter dress code. The man are asked to wear dinner jackets with bow ties or suits and ties. And the women are expected to turn up in cocktail dresses.

I don't have a cocktail dress. I don't even know what a cocktail dress is. I'm reluctant to purchase anything that sounds so extravagant in these cash-strapped times, especially since it might require the additional purchase of cocktail shoes, if such items exist. Nonetheless, I spent part of two days wandering in and out of shops, looking for second-hand items in charity shops or bargains in the sales.

It wasn't a success. I returned home from one excursion with two pairs of gloves (my hands were cold and there was a special offer of two pairs for £1). And I came home from the other carrying - with some difficulty - a new mop and broom. Perhaps I was inspired by thoughts of Cinderella. But I fear my fairy godmother's unlikely to appear.

I've been searching the internet for ideas. But although I've found pictures of cocktail dresses and women with swords, I haven't yet found the sort of cocktail dress that goes well with an epee. And the costume question is taking up far too much of my time.

I wonder if men have the same anxieties. Perhaps they all have decent suits and ties. (It might be more fun if women wore suits and men wore the cocktail dresses - I'd like to see them manage high heels and I'm sure the Oxfam shop would supply me with a suitable tie.) But, much as I admire the extravangant costumes of 17th century fencers, I also look back with nostalgia to an era where a fencer could wear casual clothes to fight with elegant courage - even in a great fortress.

bow-ties, shoes and swords

I hardly recognized the fencers.


We had gathered at the golf club for our annual dinner and awards ceremony. There had been suggestions about dressing up, but I hadn't expected a white-tie affair.

Not that white ties were compulsory. There were also black bow-ties, coloured ties, shirts without ties, waistcoats and, from determinedly casual dressers, sweatshirts. The women did their best but could hardly compete, althought there were some fine dresses and ensembles. In particular, one epeeist had gone for the 1940s look, with straight seams down the back of her legs. Were they stockings, I wondered, or the really authentic 1940s austerity look, created by gravy browning and eyebrow pencil. Alas, she had adopted the modern option - tights. Still, her shoes and dress were very fine, and she approved of my shoes too, before our conversation moved to more general subjects. Soon we had left outfits and fencing far behind and were talking of cinema. "You must see Ang Lee's Lust. Caution," I was told. "I've heard it's good," I responded. "Oh yes," my friend replied, "and the shoes are excellent."

We seemed determined to show that our interests went beyond fencing, although there were fencing questions in the traditional quiz. I didn't know many answers. I have no idea how indicators for national rankings work and couldn't calculate the numbers of D.E. bouts in a large contest. At least I remembered which British epeeist won the 2007 Heidenheim championship. One question revealed the decision to include the bib as a target in foil. My hits often land on the bib but it still sounds an awful idea - and an expensive one. Presumably foilists, like sabreurs, will need special and expensive masks for fencing on electric pistes - a further deterrent for fencers with less money. Epee remains the pauper's sport, with the cheapest equipment.. (Looking at discussion sites, I see talk of outlawing the fleche as well. I hope it will stay. I've never used a fleche in combat but there's something exhilarating about ending footwork practice with a fleche and a shout.)


Speeches at the end of the meal were crammed with jokes. We poured the last of the red wine and were easily amused. Award winners posed with their trophies as cameras, mobile phones and glasses were raised. The main trophies are retired weapons (with ornaments for keeping) but there are also medals for second and third place. We cheered and applauded the winners. Opposite me sat the new master-of-arms. I leaned over to admire his swords and medals and tipped my wine glass. A red stain grew on the medal ribbons. No-one had white wine to remove the stain so a friend tried using salt. It didn't work.