Those of a nervous disposition may want to stop reading now.
Back in May, we visited dear friends for an overnight stay and BBQ. The friends shall remain anonymous, but Jane (oops, sorry) asked me about our planning for this trip, and asked me had I given any thought to how many pairs of knickers I would take. Richard raised an eyebrow. It wouldn’t occur to him to consider this in advance, let alone on the day of packing, and therefore why would I? His mouth dropped open when I replied 14, plus a few.
I always pack on the basis of two pairs a day. One for the morning after my morning shower, and one for the evening after my evening shower. For a long weekend, I multiply two by the number of days and add a contingency pair, or two (in case we stay on, rather than to cover any accidents). I’ve not reached that stage yet. For this trip, I worked on a week (2 x 7), plus a few contingency pairs.
I recall our first ever sailing trip to the Ionian in my younger, slimmer days. My younger, slimmer black lacy pants were hoisted up the rigging as a kind of sexy Jolly Roger. But for this trip, they are more functional and can be washed out, and hung on the boat to dry. I’ve said before this is not a holiday…
Richard did pack some undies as well (this is the ‘knackers’ reference, if you hadn’t got it yet). But not quite as many [Ed, nowhere near] as me, so I frequently wash a few pairs for both of us. These flap attractively when pegged out on the guard rails when we are moored up. Perhaps this is why we haven’t been invited to any cocktail parties on other boats yet? But anyway, we both smell sweet and clean.
Just before we came away, we did a few trips into the big city, as we like to call Cheltenham. They have posh shops there like John Lewis, and functional shops like M&S. I wanted some new bras (final reference geddit?). I tried on various bits of things, and finally decided on a particular type. I went back out into the shop and selected a few more in different colours.
Alas, when I went to put one of them on, on the morning of our ferry departure, I realised I had bought the wrong size. The male species reading this may not appreciate how uncomfortable wrong-size bras are, but believe me, it is dreadful. What to do? No time to get to Cheltenham and back, plus all our other chores. Off to our nearby Tesco superstore, with fingers crossed.
And amazingly, they came up trumps (as it were). Comfortable, easy to wear and wash. Who’d have thought?
And if Richard adds a snide [Ed] comment, that we could use my knickers as a spare spinnaker sail, then please contact me at:
Buoncammino Prison
Viale Buon Cammino 19
Cagliari
P.S. this prison actually got condemned by the European Court of Human Rights in 2013. I’m not sure it really exists any more.