Oh My God.
The timing of the thing.
It is Simply Not Fair.
An Elderly Relation is staying with us for two nights, on the way home after a trip to U.S.A. The poor woman's suitcase has been carefully mislaid by the airline and is languishing somewhere in O'Hare Airport. She was a Bit Cross about it. And also had to wash some of her clothes so she could wear something tomorrow... I offered her my thongs and tassles but she wasn't interested. Honestly, some people are so ungrateful.
Anyway... once the Washing had been Completed (by hand) it was hung out on the line.
Vast Flesh Coloured Knickers. Pegged the right way up, as if the line were wearing them. Likewise Bra. Jauntily pegged up by the straps with the wind positively echoing around the cups. Next to them were brown linen trousers that looked Simply Enormous, taking up at least eight feet of the line. Wide. And a blouse sort of thing. All pegged the right way up. In a neat, lengthy line.
You couldn't miss the bastards if you tried.
I hoped against hope that no-one would arrive. Or that a rather Gorgeous Delivery Man wouldn't suddenly turn up with Interesting Wares.
Cue, Gorgeous Delivery Man with Interesting Wares. Obviously.
Up he trundled in his white van. Wandered up to the front door.
We opened said door to Vision.
Simply Heavenly. Tall and dark. Liquid brown eyes. Wonderfully Handsome. With, wait for this... an Italian Accent!! Thrilled I was. Especially as my children crowded around me in a very Italian sort of way when I answered the door.
'You like'a look at ma fish?' asked Adonis, smiling broadly, and stroking Youngest's hair.
I simpered back and followed him out. Followed his gaze.
His eyes had wandered to the Washing Line. And there, waving gently in the breeze, were those Bastard Knickers. That Bra. His head whipped round as he took in the undergarments, and incredulously checked out my size.
I swear I could see a light dying in his eyes.
Didn't do much for my simpering, either.
Bastard Timing. They say it's the secret of Good Comedy. And the blinkin' secret of Good Tragedy too, I reckon.
Why, oh, why, wasn't this on the line?
No such bloomin' luck. He had to see this Sort of Thing.
Kind of Serves me Right, though.
Husband will find this Most Amusing when I tell him later on.