This whole incident, still makes me laugh to this day, just one of many silly and funny things that happened in my life before marriage and motherhood. Its good I think at times to share and remember some of the silly, reckless and sometimes risky things you did in your past. The silly situations you found yourself in and to be thankful for the times when things worked out and to learn from those when they didn’t.
Today’s title is a reference to the iconic scene in the 1955 Marilyn Monroe film ‘The Seven Year Itch’ and happened to me sometime in the mid-eighties. That’s probably about as specific as I’m prepared to get with regards to this event.
A group of us were in Paris to celebrate the wedding of a friend, and to attend a ball. I can’t quite recall how all this came about, how arrangements were made, tickets booked, but somehow we all ended up staying in different locations throughout our stay.
In any case on the night of the ball, I ended up in one place and most of my belongings in another. So, in the morning I didn’t have a huge choice of things to wear and one of the things that hadn’t quite made it across was my underwear.
I was in one location, my clean underwear in another…..
Still, luckily for me I had a long skirt to hand and one reasonable top, so undeterred I got dressed and set off with the others. Reasoning that if I was careful, everything would be okay, all I needed to do was to ensure my skirt stayed down and didn’t blow upwards. I could sort myself out as soon as we returned to the flat where we had initially ‘set up camp’. I was hoping that after a bit of lunch we would head back to the apartment and I would be reunited with a clean pair of pants.
Unfortunately, for me at least our French hosts were very keen to show us the city and it was going to be some while before we could head back to the flat. I did notice some sideways ‘glances’ as my hand never strayed far from my skirt. I was very diligent in making sure it stayed in place.
This went on for a few hours, me making appreciative noises and small talk in my very limited French, while all the while making sure that my hand remained permanently ‘glued’ to my skirt.
So, I was mightily relieved when someone, at long last suggested that we were so close to the flat that we may as well head back. All we needed to do was cross the road and we’d be ‘home’.
‘Great, wonderful’ I thought and in my relief and haste I stepped without thinking onto an air vent right in the middle of the road.
To this day I don’t know why I didn’t just step calmly off the vent, that’s all I needed to do really. Luckily the one other person who understood and knew what was going on, had the sense to drag me off before any damage was done.
Again, I can only surmise that our French hosts were somewhat mystified by this strange behaviour and hurried to get us back to the flat.
And once I’d been reunited with my clean underwear, I and my ‘friend’ explained the situation to our hosts amongst much laughter, coffee and maybe some wine.
So, there you have it, an unusual end to our trip to Paris.
Until next time
PS Incidentally, it was quite some years later, that my ‘husband to be’, proposed in Paris.