I did a bit of camino shopping whilst I was in he UK. I bought some waterproof fabric to make a rain skirt (now made), and another length to have a go at remaking my ‘super-duper backpack cover/shoulder cape’. A pair of arm warmers. New hiking socks. A charity shop skirt for evening wear. A few gizmos.
And two pairs of new merino wool pants (knickers) – large and grey.
Large because that is the size of my bum and, being woollen, they are not very stretchy. So a size large looks huge.
I am very pleased with them, they are very comfy and stay in place.
They won’t look very pretty hanging on the washing line in the albergue – but, hey, I have earned my big knickers. I could even sew a camino patch on them.
As soon as arrived back in Spain I unpacked my case and actually put everything away, either in the washing basket or on the appropriate shelf in the closet (I have to admit that this doesn’t always happen quite so efficiently). But a couple of days later when I looked for said big comfy knickers they were definitely not in their allotted space. I looked in all sorts of other spaces where I knew they wouldn’t be. I looked in the washing basket where I knew they wouldn’t be because I had already done all the washing. I looked in my pile of camino clothes where I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be. And when I couldn’t find them I looked in the same places all over again, and then once more.
Now, merino wool pants are not inexpensive items and I was not prepared to give up on my search without a fight. So I started to look in places where I absolutely knew they definitely would not be, like in David’s underwear drawer. And lo and behold, there was a pair of my hiking pants nestling between his boxers. But only one pair – If I had found two pairs I would have been happier, but just one pair led me to believe the worst.
I marched to the living room where David was innocently attending to some domestic chore. He was quite taken aback when I demanded to know what underpants he was wearing. I don’t know if he thought his luck was in, but he was fairly quick in complying with my insistence that he reveal his underwear – or I should say, my underwear.
When he realised he was wearing my pants he thought it was hysterical – I was slightly less amused and issued an order for them to be removed forthwith.
And no – his luck wasn’t in.
And yes, he will get his comeuppance when it is known around the village that he has been wearing my pants!