A decent homecooked meal was much overdue, and so last weekend I demanded the presence of my favourite girlies, Irish, Blondie and Twinkle (who lives here so it wasn’t hard to convince her) over for a good old fashioned Sunday dinner.
Now, I’m a veggie as you know so whatever you’re imagining, replace it with fake Lincolnshire sausages and you got it. Yorkshire puddings from scratch though – credit where credit is due.
Anyhoo, chocolate brownie, cornish icecream and several bottles of wine later, we’re all still gathered around the dinner table, laughing at Twinkle’s unfortunate recent holiday experience with her parents – who would send her out for a run in the morning in the 40 degree Egyption sun so they could sneak in a quickie. Hilarious.
This somehow got onto the subject of naked houses. Did you grow up in a naked house? I certainly did not. In fact, just recently I was home visiting my folks and hanging out in their room one morning, drinking tea and chuckling merrily at Dick and Dom (you know you do it) and my father made me leave the room when he eventually got up because he’d slept in his t-shirt and boxers and therefore didn’t have any trousers on.
I also used to give him a heart attack if I had to leg it downstairs in the morning in my bra to grab my shirt from the dryer before school.
TWINKLE, however, will stand chatting away to her dad in her pants and think nothing of it. And sunbathed topless in Egypt (which I’m pretty sure is illegal or frowned upon or something) and so did her mum. Of course, it may have something to do with her meagre 32B’s being slightly less imposing than my ample bosom but still.
Blondie once visited a family friend with her parents, and as she was getting ready one morning she spied him (a man of at least 45) wandering past her room COMPLETELY STARKERS and when he saw that she’d seen him he stopped and WAVED.
Who ARE these people who wander around naked all the time? Surely we’re British – excessive flesh is not something we like to see on a day to day basis.
Sex education in my childhood was a horror story about my mum’s first period and a poorly illustrated book (it showed a couple doing it missionary style on a beach – on a beach??) and the first time I saw a penis that wasn’t a spray painted on the side of the tennis courts was when one was in my face.
I cannot tell you how much I hoped they all looked like that.
This is a subject that now intrigues me: naked house vs clothed house – what say you readers?
Fully clothed RitziCx