That awkward moment when ........

Here I am again.  It's not normal for me to blog one day after another but yesterday something happened which if I didn't laugh about it publicly, I would die silently inside.

Alan.  Well that's enough to make you laugh straight off there.  We all know that his forever passion is football.  Playing it, watching it, his beloved Everton, his nearly beloved Tranmere.  It's an obsession.  There have been moments in our married life where it has become a little bit less of an obsession but these have been rare.  I remind him constantly that I am some special wife who still after 28 years of marriage lets him play football every Saturday afternoon during the season.  Believe you me it would be EVERY Saturday out of season if there were games going one.  For the last few years, now he's a bit older, he hints that this may just be his last season, my hopes rise only to be dashed because he just can't stop. 

New church.  We've been there nearly a year now but we still feel new. When you were at your last one 43 years then it's going to be new for quite a while.  It's taken Alan up until last month to find out if they play football as a church and when.  He's now as regular on a Thursday evening as they allow him!! 

Anyway  this last week it was Alan's turn to wash the bibs.  I will have nothing to do with this although I must say bibs aren't as bad as the full-blown muddy kit which he brings home from his Saturday games.  So as near as possible to him going to play he puts the bibs in to wash and throws in some other things too.  Fine I'm happy he's doing washing.  It all goes in the drier and then he grabs the bibs and off to footie he goes.  You know what's going to happen don't you.  Yep.  Sure enough, he doesn't just grab the bibs.  He's relieved when he notices a random sock that he's picked up by accident.  Shoves it in his pocket and then.....................

I feel sick just thinking about it.  The guys start to put the bibs on and not one, not two but three pairs of my knickers fall out and I don't have a clue.  He could have kept this from me and I would be blissfully ignorant.  I could walk into church as usual and feel no shame, no embarrassment.  But of course he didn't.  As soon as the game was over he was on the phone gleefully describing the flaunting of my underwear to a group of lads who I never want to have to look at again.  Oh the shame!

So in my best Alyson way, I will not hide away, tempted though I am, but will instead laugh out loud at myself and the embarrassing tale of my knickers and the football bibs.  And if anyone as much as sniggers I'll tell them they were Hannah's.