This summer the Chronicle is bringing you another look at some of the best content of 2019. This story originally ran on November 04, 2019:
ON THE SAME PAGE
This is a story about my wife's underwear.
Before I start though I have to point out I have jumped through many and varied hoops to get the tale to the point where it can be revealed without fear of retribution, both personal and legal.
Most importantly Mrs P has given her approval.
When I suggested I could use the story in this very column she basically responded with one of those "why not, it has never stopped you before" shrugs. Naturally it was followed by ". . . but it'll cost you".
The terms of that particular arrangement have been bashed out over the course of a few evenings (and the odd gin and tonic) and involve some confidentiality.
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Lets just say by the time my end of the bargain has been fulfilled I'll be sick of the sight of the checkout at Briscoes and I probably won't have any money left to buy those golf shoes I need for summer.
So. To the story.
A while back Mrs P had a medical issue relating to a small spot on her scalp. Naturally, because we all should get these things checked, we journeyed to the big smoke for an appointment with the specialist.
It was a Monday appointment so we decided to make a weekend of it beforehand and had a great time. And, as is my habit, and because she is ultra special to me, I bought my beloved some new underwear.
Now I should point out here this was not your basic stripper attire or what my old Nan would have called "tarty" if you get my drift.
It was nice, pretty and just what I know my lady likes. And importantly, for that little space at the back of your mind, parts of it were "sheer" which is basically "see-through" but without the sleazy connotation (depending I suppose on how you look at it).
Anyway, so filled with joy at my expression of love was she, Mrs P decided to wear the new gear the next day.
It turned out to be a big mistake.
At her appointment she was expecting just her scalp to be examined but it morphed into a full-on skin check . . . which required her to remove all clothing but her underwear.
In all seriousness I have to point out here there is no suggestion of impropriety at all - in fact, we applaud the medical professional for taking the time to do the full on check. It's more the circumstances I/we find amusing.
So there's Mrs P in her new see through, oops I mean sheer, lingerie getting the once over. From all angles. And hoping like hell the sheer bits are covering er, the bits she wanted most to be covered.
We laughed about it after, particularly when she told me the whole appointment had seemingly gone on and on and taken the better part of 40 minutes. So that's 2400 seconds of embarrassment and just wanting to cover up and leave.
Eventually, Mrs P got the all clear and we drove home. And as is the case with such things just recently she went back for a follow up.
This time Mrs P was not going to be caught out.
It would be sensible, no nonsense cotton undies and camisole (Note: Men unfamiliar with the term should ask their lady). And to top it all off the colour didn't match.
So in general what you might call "an everyday ensemble" rather than the rather fetching undergarments of the first time round.
Luckily for Mrs P any further embarrassment was avoided as she was in a state of undress only briefly this time.
The whole appointment took just 10 minutes.
• Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to email@example.com .