|
|
I was going to post this yesterday but I was TOO BUSY. This SHOULD NOT be allowed.
Well, I'm back at work (not without a fight though - I came in an hour late just to make it clear that I am still ill, and I am doing them a favour by coming in) and my desk is strewn with the accoutrements of illness: cough medicine, aspirin, strepsils, orange squash and hot chocolate (I'm sure those last two have been the most instrumental in my recovery).
However monday was spent in that magical grey area between 'not well enough to go into work' and 'not ill enough to not enjoy being tucked up under the duvet watching daytime tv'. My flat mates were all at work so I spent the day loafing around the house in my pyjamas, dressing gown and big furry slippers. It was bliss.
But there was still one wriggling fly of duty still lurking in my self indulgent ointment: I had a birthday card to post, and since it was already several days late I really couldn't wait for a full recovery to post it. The letter box is just 10 metres from my front door, but I was very comfortable in my loafing suit and was disinclined to change out of it just for the purpose of a 1 minute foray into the outside world. There was of course one solution that would resolve both problems at once, but it was a solution that would mean breaking one of society's most fundamental taboos, possibly setting back the progress of civilization by hundreds of years. It took a minute for me to steel myself, mentally battling against many years of heavily ingrained social programming, but before long I stood there, on the boundary between being an accepted member of society and being a hated outcast; facing the abyss. On the doorstep. In my dressing gown.
And then I stepped over the edge...
As I walked down the path in my slippers, tighting my dressing gown belt against the cold I felt a chill of fear - I'd forgotten how busy our street got as people walked home from the tube station, and I'd picked the time when everyone had just finished work so there was a constant flow of people past my gate. But I would not be stopped now. I had chosen my course and I would stick to it. I flung the gate open and defiantly turned to face the postbox. It was at this point that I realised just how far 10 metres is when you are standing on the wet pavement in your pyjamas; I think that was when I broke into what I would like to think was a 'casual jog' but what was probably more like a 'desperate sprint'.
Up until now I had been travelling in the same direction as all the commuters so I didn't have to look anyone in the face, but once I'd popped my letter in the slot and turned to make the journey back to the safety of my flat I realised I would have to walk against the flow, passing by about 10 fully dressed professionals with little more than a baggy hong-kong-phooey t-shirt to protect my dignity. I doubted that any of them would really consider me a 'number one super guy'.
At this point I have to admit my resolve sputtered out. What had begun as a noble quest transformed into a walk of shame. I think there is no better way to describe it that to say that I 'slunk' back to my front door, not even daring to look the passers-by in the face as I went. Once through the gate I dashed up the path and back into the protective warmth of my home, where the wearing of dressing gowns is not only accepted, but positively encouraged.
The adventure had not been without it's problems, but I think I emerged from it a better man. I had thumbed my nose at society's preconceptions, the letter was posted and I was still in my comfy loafing suit with no more harm done than a wet leaf down the back of my slipper. I was victorious: In your face society!
Next time I'm wearing the fez too.
|
|
|
To date 35 Comment(s)
TrackBack-URL
(7.12.05 10:49)
No fuss, we've all been labelled "the local crazy" at some point. often more than once sometimes...
|
(7.12.05 10:53)
Dare you to go down the shops and buy a newspaper in the same gettup. Go on, dare you.
|
TC
/ Website
(7.12.05 10:57)
Are you sure this wasn't just a Freudian dream? Mine is one where I'm travelling uphill on a rollercoaster, but instead of plummeting down the other side, it comes off the rails at the top to plummet (freestyle) to the ground. Only I always wake up before it actually hits the ground. A therapist would probably probe for evidence of premature ejaculation, but what do they know, DAMN IT!
|
(7.12.05 11:03)
Oh I do this all the time. I think I AM the close's crazy resident. I'd definitely go with the fez next time. And, by the way, Hong Kong Phooey is COOOOOL.
|
(7.12.05 11:04)
Mrs Kevling always says she can tell when I'm REALLY ill, because I put my poorly dressing gown on... I don't go out in it though. I obviously don't have the resolve to challenge preconceptions that you do.
|
(7.12.05 11:20)
ah, so your were the nutter I saw as I made my way to the tube
|
(7.12.05 11:21)
I like Mr. Frog's idea, I dare you to go the corner shops in that Fez. I dare you.
|
(7.12.05 11:26)
OJ - I will, if you come with me in the coolie.
kev - I don't have to be poorly to wear my dressing gown. Just lazy.
TC - I have tidied up your mess. I mean the repeated comment, not the premature ejaculation.
|
(7.12.05 11:26)
HURRAH FOR THE BABOON. I do salute you, not only for doing this, but for recognising what it is you were doing.
|
(7.12.05 11:30)
I think I owe you this. Well done man! I just wish I was at home to receive it. I got OJ's card yesterday and all my family were like "who do you know in London?! WHO?!" I lied and said I knew her from 'Uni' so now you need to be from my Uni too. Who also just happens to live in London. And in that Phooey t-shirt I expct you to jump out of filing cabinets.
|
(7.12.05 11:30)
This is one of the best blogs I have ever read. I love it.
|
(7.12.05 11:32)
Not being the owner of a dressing gown I have never gone outside in one - except one Hallowe'en when I was 9 and dressed as a Chinaman. I had a black shoe lace as a moustache. It was terribly PC.
|
(7.12.05 11:41)
OJ - ok, I understand. You can wear the pirate hat.
cookie - I recognised what I was doing: making a tit of myself.
chintz - I hope it arrives soon! If it was all in vain I will be most disappointed.
hjb - In that case I will endeavor to himiliate myself in a state of undress more often.
BC - when were you 9? In the 1930s? Did you squint your eyes all night too?
|
(7.12.05 11:46)
I don't know about squinting the eyes but I was wearing a natty little silk mandarin hat that my Gran brought me back from Hong Kong. The shoelace was attached with sellotape - very oriental.
|
(7.12.05 12:02)
You might have set a trend - there may be loads of professional types out there now wondering around in slippers and Hong Kong Fhooey t-shirts.
|
(7.12.05 12:35)
screw societal conventions! Or, as I said yesterday to a chum whilst I was lobbing chicken carcasses into the back garden for the dog to enjoy, "I can't imagine why the neighbors don't like me."
|
(7.12.05 13:00)
it would have been stranger if you'd been lobbing dog carcasses to the chickens in the backyard. If you'd done that, I'd have given you a sweetie for being different, too.
|
(7.12.05 13:56)
Coward that I am, I always capitulate and get into some street clothes. But oh that walk of shame on the way home.....*shudder*...and the ground would not open up and swallow you? I salute your bravery!
|
(7.12.05 16:03)
I'd recommend you take the pipe as well as the fez next time, it'll give you added gravitas.
|
(7.12.05 16:10)
I've always said that Toots is ace like that because you *can* go out in your jimmers and no one minds.
|
(7.12.05 16:41)
kate - it didn't feel like that as I was walking back into my flat... perhaps the broadway end is more accepting?
jef - I have a confession to make: there is no pipe. I'm sorry.
|
(7.12.05 17:03)
Impressive. However I'll raise you my housemate and his old housemate (yes thats tricky to read, I know) making the 10 minute walk to the kebab shop in their slipers and dressing gowns (I had to see how to spell that it still looks wrong)with a mug of tea each. It was 2am and they were pissed though.
|
(7.12.05 18:25)
Farting in the face of social convention. I salute you wholeheartedly mister boon!
i'm sure i went to the postbox many times in my slippers and tracksuit, when living in Clapham [not as good as your outfit, natch], just because the fuckers needed to be shown.
Round E17 way I'd just blend in with the locals if I went out in a dressing gown. I've gotta get dressed to be different these days...
|
(7.12.05 19:01)
My tiny black heart has been broken by that revelation babs. I'm not sure things will ever be the same again.
|
Lucky Tapir
(8.12.05 00:10)
I too salute you, there need to be more of us, back in university i used to go to class in my house coat and sandals, went to a few final exams and the bar too.
|
(8.12.05 17:32)
Your story has given me the confidence to head to my corner shop in my Dressing gown. I've often thought about it, but stopped in the house drinking black tea & going hungry because I couldn't be arsed to get properly dressed, just for a stroll to the shop for a loaf of bread & some milk.
|
Rice_22
/ Website
(9.12.05 08:58)
I always dreamt of walking around the streets with my comfy gray pyjamas.
And I want to know what Hong Kong Phooey is.
Finally, not all of us squint. :|
|
Rice_22
/ Website
(9.12.05 08:59)
I always dreamt of walking around the streets with my comfy gray pyjamas.
And I want to know what Hong Kong Phooey is.
Finally, not all of us squint. :|
|
(9.12.05 10:07)
Hong Kong Phooey
Who is this super hero?
Sarge?
No!
Rosemary, the telephone operator?
No.
Penry, the mild-mannered janitor?
Could Be!
Hong Kong Phooey, number one super guy.
Hong Kong Phooey, quicker than the human eye.
He's got style, a groovy style, and a car that just won't stop.
When the going gets rough, he's super tough, with a Hong Kong Phooey chop
Hong Kong Phooey, number one super guy
Hong Kong Phooey, quicker than the human eye
Hong Kong Phooey - fannn-riffic!
|
(31.3.06 14:02)
I saw this photo  and thought of your entry. I worry about how my mind works on a Friday afternoon!
|
|
