Underwear Heaven

Don't worry, I am not going to give you too much information and there certainly will not be a photo! After Robbie's recent problems with itchy and irritated legs we have finally found a solution. Having researched the matter on the internet it seemed that sports underwear may provide offer some protection from the irritating fabric of his suit. So Thursday morning found me at a large sports store having an excruciatingly embarrassing conversation about the correct size to buy with a male assistant who looked implausibly young. I bought the said garment, just one pair as they were scarily expensive and I wasn't sure that they would work. Robbie wasn't too sure at first, but having showed off his new knickers to my son he decided to give them a try. Our son says he will need years of therapy to recover!! On Friday Robbie rang me to say that he was in underwear heaven, apparently the new 'smalls' are perfect, like a second skin. We have now ordered more pairs, so I hope we will hear a lot less about sore legs in the coming weeks.

A Knicker Nicker - Surely Not?

Robbie decided to abandon me on Thursday to go on another pointless union course. He was only going for one day and one night but he packed enough for a week, how many shirts can one man wear in a day? He wasted all the previous evening packing and working out his travel arrangements to Birmingham - a journey that he should be familiar with by now as he does it every week day! After all the messing around I expected him to be totally organised and ready to leave in good time for his train on Thursday morning - I was wrong! I woke him up on time, I even managed to get him out of bed without too much difficulty, but it all went wrong after that.


When I got up I realised that his arrival in the bathroom had been seriously delayed and when I went downstairs to investigate I found him trotting around in his knickers muttering obscenities. According to Robbie someone had stolen his knickers to prevent him going on the course! I had plenty of good reasons to stop him going on the course, but if I had set my mind on keeping him at home I could have achieved my objective without resorting to pant pilfering! I went up to the bedroom and found half a dozen pairs of Robbie's pants, but when I offered them to him he found reasons to reject every pair as unsuitable in some way. He insisted that he had to have his best pants for the course (perhaps they help him to think better!) and he plodded off in search of the perfect pair of pants.


In the end he settled for an 'inferior' pair to pack in his case and he insisted that his best pants had been stolen. By this time we were in the car racing towards the station in time for hid train. I tried to make him review the evidence, Sam is skinny and he couldn't possibly wear Robbie size garments, the girls have an interesting selection of underwear but it is somewhat skimpier than Robbie's, neither of them has a use for the kind that he wears. So who nicked the knickers? The only person I know who wears trunks like Robbie is Homer Simpson, but I believe he prefers white rather than black. The truth is that there was no conspiracy to steal his pants, he just hadn't looked in the right place - they were in the tumble dryer!

A Scary Start!

I am starting to think that I am better off when Robbie is half asleep. He was a bit more lively this morning and he managed to get up without too much trouble. I thought that we would have an easier morning, but it turned out rather differently. First he scared me half to death by galloping around the house looking for his favourite knickers. Then he told me in far to much detail why that pair provide just the right amount of comfort and support and how the other pairs let him down in various ways!

Just when I had started to relax he ambushed me with a complicated explanation about a formula to calculate the chances of meeting a string of red lights if you have already been stopped at a red light. If he carries on like this he will send me to sleep!

The Big Stink 11.06.07

Over the last few days we have developed a seriously unpleasant smell in the car. At work my sense of smell is legendary and I pride myself on being able to identify the exact origin of even the most obnoxious odours (it is a very useful skill in my line of work!) but the origin of this smell defeated me. I checked the car for any offending object, but there was nothing and every day the smell got worse. Copious amounts of Oust and car fresheners proved useless and I was being driven mad by the smell. It was similar to over ripe trainers crossed with rotting potato, but I just couldn't track it down.

When I was waiting for Laura at the music centre this afternoon I could bear it no longer and I decided to take the car apart. I lifted the seats up and looked in every possible nook and cranny - nothing! I still had ten minutes to wait so I thought I would have a look at the bag containing two or three pairs of new shorts for Robbie. They were a kind but misguided gift to him for an elderly relative and I didn't need a crystal ball to predict that they would be unsuitable. The strange thing about old people is that they constantly tell you to wear a vest, but when it comes to shorts they like them to have short legs, barely more than knickers. Robbie has very nice legs, but they look much nicer in long shorts. I was correct, in the bag were three pairs of too short shorts. Laura returned to the car just as I was looking at them and she begged me not to let him wear them. I assured her that he wouldn't wear them as they would make him look like Gandhi. She fell about laughing and pointed out that Robbie and Ghandi had very different girth measurements, but I was referring to the baggy nappy look.

Anyway I realised that there was something heavy at the bottom of the bag and when I looked in I found the source of the smell. The same doting relative had thoughtfully slipped a bag of carrots into the bag of shorts as a treat for the guinea pig. The shorts and carrots had been in the car for a week and the (thankfully) sealed bag of carrots contained a fermenting liquid that smelled frightening.

This little episode brought to mind an event years ago when I was about 10. I used to stay with an (honorary) aunt and uncle on their farm every summer, it was my idea of heaven. This particular year they had finally sold their lovely old Austin Cambridge and they were the proud owners of a not very attractive red Moskovich. This car started to smell bad, and over the week it got progressively worse. Uncle and I checked the car time and time again but we couldn't find anything. Then as a last resort he lifted the bonnet to look at the engine and the cause of the odour was revealed. A huge mouse had got into the engine space and hung itself on part of the metalwork in the inside of the bonnet. One small decaying rodent caused an almighty stink!

A Plea From the Heart 10.02.07

The saga of the 'lounge wear' continues. It must be a month since Robbie managed to tear one of his pairs of PJ bottoms in a rather vital area - don't ask how, it is one of those mysteries that I am probably better not knowing the answer to!! They had a gaping tear of at least twelve inches and for the protection of 'the viewing public' I had to throw them away. He is still sulking and he claims (unsurprisingly) that he is unable to find any suitably modern and 'Robbie style' lounge wear. By Robbie style he means loud clashing colours combined with large and dubious patterns - Sam's right he is still stuck in the 1970's!

This is a plea from the heart, we have endured at least a month of Robbie parading around the house in his knickers and it's more than flesh and blood can stand. It is one of those visions that you never get used to. Please, if one of his colleagues reads this would you send him out in his lunch hour to buy some PJ bottoms - my requirements are less onerous than his, the price must be 'within budget' and they must cover all the 'relevant parts'. Our family (and the postman) will be extremely relieved to see him properly attired again.

18th Birthday 31.01.07

We had a very early start today, it is Emily's 18th birthday and we had all adjusted our morning routines slightly to spend some time with Emily while she opened her presents. I have been working on a photo scrapbook for her, it has taken far more time than I anticipated and I am very pleased with the results. Emily loved it and has taken it to school to share with her friends and to have a good laugh at the funny photos and the terrible clothes she was 'made' to wear when she was younger! I remember feeling that I had been scarred for life by some of the clothes my mum chose for me. I took particular exception to a ruched red swimming costume I was only about two or three, but it made me look like the michelin man's daughter! After that I developed a mind of my own and try as she might my mum could never get me to wear things I didn't like. We were looking at Robbie's old photos a few weeks ago and his childhood pictures caused a few giggles. He grew up in the 1970's, the era of extremely skimpy shorts among other 'fashion triumphs'. A number of the pictures make him look as if he is wearing pants rather than shorts - so that is why he insists on wandering around the house in his knickers, I always thought he was stuck in a time warp! Believe me you don't want me to see the photos, far too traumatic!!