I’m always in a rush and leave things to the last minute. I had to catch the 8.03 for Charing X if I didn’t want the last warning to be put into effect should I be late again. But as I got into my car, the essential button on my skirt came off, and I couldn’t find it.
I rushed up the slope to the station entrance clutching my umbrella in one hand, skirt and handbag in the other. There was a Ticket Inspector on that day, and as I fumbled for my season ticket, the skirt fell to my ankles. He didn’t bat an eyelid.
Somehow, I managed to heave it up again with the minimum of exposure, and made for the train about to leave. I did get in, but my skirt didn’t, and as the train pulled away I watched it become an ever smaller pile on the platform.
I decided to face it out, and let my black slip cover all deficiencies.
Unfortunately, I had left it on the back of the chair in the bedroom in my hurry to get dressed.
As is customary in the UK, no-one smiled, made a comment or even acknowledged they had seen me inching skirtless in my pop socks towards the nearest seat. “Glad I caught the train,” I said. “I’m taking part in the London Marathon. Thought I’d save time and put on my gear so I’m ready for the off!” At my age, you can get away with anything.