Problems? Solutions.

We are packing. And we have problems on the clothing front. We are travelling to a Muslim country where women and children do not show bits of themselves. Here in the UK of course they let fly all over the place, and most don't mind if they push it all in Grit's face too, usually accompanied by bra straps and thong tops, while she is trying to do a decent bit of grovelling in the 10p bin at Tesco.

In fact, now I am warming to this subject of nudity in the UK, our local Tesco has a sign which requests that customers are properly attired when they enter the shop. This might show you what sort of area we live in. It is all about class, of course, and not poverty.

We live in a Smalltown where ladies like to show their status, not by how many labels they can dazzle you with or how much bling-fling they can do, but by how much blue flesh they can get out on a cold winter's day while waiting outside the Agora Marketplace. The men are not much better. Come summer, fat bellies abound. Pumped up with beer from the working men's club the Saturday night before, come Sunday morning, out they all flop. Two hours of midday sun in a chair turns the tops of these bumps bright pink. The man boobs on top provide the adornment to this glory. By afternoon the whole lot of it comes rolling into Tesco for a Sunday Mirror and, probably, a pork pie. Well I may be against Tesco on most things, but I am with them on this one. So when they put up the sign reminding customers that clothes are considered desirable, I sympathise.

I would like to emphasise that this is not out of a prudish demeanour, that I don't bring out my belly, thighs, upper arms and knees for public consultation. It is because I consider these bits of me revolting and in all likelihood that's what other people think too. I can't say that the ancient Grit upper arm, deserted by sunlight and any type of attention for the last seven years, is a particularly attractive sight.

But Grit arms, fat bellies, Tesco and UK dress standards are not the problem. It is Shark, who seems to have no suitable modest clothes at all and who has recently grown a bit everywhere so that she looks like a Michellin baby in last year's frocks. Worse, she won't wear anything but blue sleeveless dresses. And of course they have to be denim. I hope this phase of her life passes quickly, but it's probably worth recording for the family archives. Because next year it could be pink, frills, and Peter Pan collars. God, I hope not.

For the last year I have been supplying this demand for replica blue denim dresses from ebay, which is an excellent source in growing sizes long after the shops have stopped the fashion blip when I should, had I known Shark's upcoming demands, have bought 20 frocks in all advance sizes. Ebay is excellent for children's shopping, but I won't get distracted by that here. Because ebay is out of the question right now. We are travelling in two days.

Solution? Find credit card. Get Shark into car. Get into town. March Shark round M&S, John Lewis, Adams, Laura Ashley, H&M. Put in front of Shark all clothes which are:

a) blue
b) dresses
c) denim or denim look-alikes
d) have sleeves at least to the elbow and hems that go over the knee.

A-C are easy, because they fit Shark's model of a perfect outfit. The struggle comes at d). For this, mummy Grit has a tactic. Every time Shark pauses long enough to look at an outfit with sleeves and of a decent length, mummy Grit goes into raptures. She could be with John Galliano on a night out. 'Ooooo!' she squeals. 'Look! Shark! Isn't that adooorable! That would look FANTASTIC on you! What a beautiful dress! Try it on! No! I INSIST! It's so amazingly right it's got SHARK written all over it! NO, it won't take long! Just ONE MINUTE in the changing rooms! I'll help! And YES I'll stand guard if anyone comes in! Look! We're here, so let's just try it on, RIGHT NOW.'

Five hours later, I may have feet that are dropping off and an over-tired Shark who has been E-numbered with a jam doughnut, but I also have success. One outfit with long sleeves, one outfit with leggings, one new dress, blue and green. And now Shark is proudly packing them into her suitcase and I am calculating whether we'll be back in time to settle the bill.