Mother's incapability to behave as a sane member of society has returned. I shall take a trip down memory lane for those of you who are new to this story. I don't believe it's a popular one.
Several summers ago (I must have been about ten), Mother is trailing through Marks & Spencers with me in her fabulous sarong (bought from our then-recent holiday to Hawaii) and a skimpy vest. As we are on the escalators, Mother's sarong gets caught in between the mechanisms. This is HIGHLY unfortunate. All of a sudden Mother's sarong is whipped off, exposing a scantily-clad parent perched on the escalators of M&S, shrieking at me in a raging attempt to get me to rescue her delicate sarong from the stairs that are about to guzzle it. There is zero concern about Mothers state (knickers and vest in the middle of a busy store). Obviously, the security guards hear Mother's panic and run to assistance... with towels and blankets to resurrect her dignity. Mother did not want this and began shoving these two men away; "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! SAVE MY SARONG! SAVE MY SARONG! QUICK! IT'S FROM HAWAII!"
- Do any of you remember the magazine 'Mizz'??? Pre-teen mag? Well, as it happens, I sent this story into the 'embarrassing stories' column and it was published! Entitled; 'It's all gone sarong'... I found this highly amusing. Mother was mortified.
So, back to 2014. We seem to have had a similar situation. I should mention that similar mishaps have occured before, I have simply been lucky enough to not be present. Not quite such luck last week though.
Waltzing into the DIY store (yawn) and Mother is in her element. A few minutes later and Mother emerges from the ladies room...
A few paces into the store and a heavily embarrassed woman has hobbled up behind us. For some reason she has crouched down to an uncomfortable level and is prodding at Mother's skirt. Oh.
"Uhhmm, sorry... I just... Umm.. You seem to have... your skirt is... sort of... I think you may have accidentally... Just... Can I just... Let me... Ummmm..... sorry..."
Absolutely marvelous. Mother has peered down behind her and discovered she's managed to tuck her gloriously-vivid, sequined, lace, tweed skirt into her not-so-glorious knickers. As I turn around, I spot the two security guards giggling into their radios. The customer service team has huddled together; watching intently. Other shoppers are looking rather afraid, actually. They shuffle past. As much as the woman may have been trying to help deter any attention, I actually think she may have attracted it. With her strange crouch and red face.
Mother, however, is unperturbed. She makes a slothful wave at her skirt in hopes that the two items will become detached. She thanks the poor woman and proceeds to make very little effort to complete the un-tuck. Clearly, I must take over. I must save any dignity left. I shamble Mother into the curtains department and restore her skirt to an appropriate length.
I apologise to anyone who now has a vivid image of the scenario. I can assure you, I have made an accurate recount.
I will do a full check before Mother addresses the public in future.
xoxo
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