Wednesday, 3 October 2007


I get ready to go to the barn, throw everything in the car, get to the barn and realise I forgot two things so drive all the way home again. I'm now rushing as my military timed packing has been thrown off. I fling myself back into the car and something doesn't feel at all right.

I arrive back at the barn and investigate. I've torn the lining of my skirt. My white, thin skirt. I really don't have time to go home and change again.
I pack up everything and head to the post office.

I realised that I needed to stop at the doctor's surgery to request a repeat prescription. The thing that was worrying me - could you see my underwear because of the tear to the lining. I attempted to check my reflection in my dirty car. No good. So, I confidently strode into the doctor's reception, made my appointment and requested my prescription. Then when it came time to leave, I attempted a sidle, trying to make it appear that I was interested in something on the other side of the window. All the while my brain was screaming 'can they see my pants?'

I get back to the car and drive the very short distance to the post office and sidle inside. A miracle has occurred and the post office is empty. I get to the counter and start handing over parcels. The door opens, a woman enters and she stares at me. Is she staring because she can see my pants or because I'm staring at her? Then two men enter. I attempt a nonchalant lean so that my backside is facing away from all of them, I fail to achieve this and just look ridiculous instead.

I slink out of the post office and try to decide whether to just go into the shop and buy milk or to go home and change then come back and buy milk. The good thing about a little supermarket like that, you can walk sideways and pretend to be pondering over your shopping choices. I tried carrying my basket behind me, but you have to be double jointed for that, and you also need to not have bought four pints of milk. That stuff's heavy. When you're paying for your goods at the checkout, the entire queue has an uninterrupted view of your behind. I stood there willing my skirt not to be see-through.

I got home, I ran straight to the full length mirror. Good news is that I don't think the village got to see my underwear. Bad news is that I really have to try my sewing skills before I wear that skirt again.

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