Sunday, April 30, 2017


So in the woods I am sticking my hand down the back of my trousers to pull up my knickers when turning slightly I realise there is a man behind me.

I hastily withdraw my hand and hiss at George, 'Why didn't you tell me?'
He gave his usual 'what's the point?' shrug.
'The point is I wouldn't have done that then.'
'Maybe you shouldn't have worn fally-down knickers to begin with.'
'I didn't know I was going out when I put them on.'
He gave another 'do I look like I care?' shrug.

By the time we reached the main road my knickers were dangling around my thighs. I was wearing trousers - obviously - but I felt naked. Exposed. As if the whole world could see my bottom. There might have been a thin layer of material between me and the world but it didn't feel like it. I kept touching my bottom to reassure myself. (Which, on reflection, could explain some of the strange looks I got.)

It was seriously incredible the difference it made: I felt vulnerable. How can people go commando? I believe that's the correct expression. Apart from hygiene it's just ...un-bare-able.

P.S. I hereby resolve to throw away my remaining fally-down knickers.

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