Not PJs, OK?

For the second time today, I've just changed out of muddy wet clothing and into some clean dry things. It has been PERSISTING DOWN all day - and that's rare in my world. This time, I'm in neat clothes as it's the evening and I intend to sit around and relax. Last time I wore these trousers I was on holiday in East Fleet. Before I go any further, let me make one thing plain.

I LIKE THESE TROUSERS. OK?

One morning Tracy came to our little holiday cottage and promptly apologised for coming over before I was fully dressed.

"They're not pyjamas. They're my trousers." I told her in hurt tones.

She apologised for the second time in as many minutes.

We spent the day doing the holiday stuff, you know, huddling behind stripy windbreaks, getting out of our knickers and into swimwear from the safe haven of a hand towel and fighting the gulls for a few mouthfuls of perfectly sandy butties, as toddlers giggled past wearing little more than gritty smiles. 

Ahh, the joys of the English seaside 

: )

The end of the day came. It was dark.  MeWally and I had eaten. It was time  to head over to the circle of seats, amongst the tents, where our circle of friends were drinking and chatting.

Meg was the first person to greet us with the words, "You've already got you're PJs on." She waggled her PJ clad legs at me as a sign of solidarity.

DO THEY LOOK LIKE PYJAMAS!?

The next thing I do tonight may be to go to bed, but ....

THEY'RE NOT PYJAMAS. OK!

END OF!

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