I miss my lab coat

A lifetime ago (or so it seems) I used to be a Science teacher. More accurately I used to be that Science teacher. You all know exactly what I’m talking about. The teacher who had scorch marks on the ceiling and sometimes no eye brows. The teacher who would confiscate your cigarettes and matches and then show you how to use the foil wrapper and match heads to fashion a rudimentary rocket.

When my world consisted of showing students how to measure the speed of light using a microwave and marshmallows and the occasional fire brigade incident, I chose my clothes for flammability (or lack thereof) not suitability.

When I needed to make a quick get away from my lab tech because I’d left unreacted sodium on a combustion spoon and inadvertently, by proxy, set fire to her washing up bowl again; I needed shoes that allowed me to run away, very quickly.

Now I have a job with very different demands, I have to make an impression on people without setting fire to myself or my surroundings. I have to wear occasion appropriate outfits. Sometimes that means two different lots of clothes in one day.

I’ve just finished packing for my annual “conference-for-people-who-host-conferences” and realised that I’ve had to pack no less than six different outfits, complete with three pairs of shoes (they have to match apparently?)

I really miss my lab coat sometimes.