I should point out Mrs P would not and indeed was not instructing me on what to purchase. But the innocent query that "those are the ones Daniel Carter wears aren't they?" was a little transparent.
It brought back an unfortunate memory involving my mum who once held up a pair of disgustingly old fashioned underpants against me - ironically in Farmers - to see if they would fit. That wouldn't have been so bad, except for the fact that I was 18 at the time and the shop was full of sniggering young ladies I knew.
With that embarrassment to this day sending a shiver down my spine I thanked Mrs P for her interest and wandered off to have a look on my own, determined never to allow myself to be embarrassed like that again.
Left to my own devices I remembered why I find clothes shopping tedious. There's so much choice I can never make a decision ... bring back the old white Y-fronts my granddad wore I say. Not the exact pair but you get what I mean.
Anyway. In a relatively short while I managed to find the good, old reliable undergarment favoured by columnists and office workers (by which I mean those of us that sit on our backside most of the day - extra padding required) and headed to the cashier.
Along the way I caught sight of what appeared to be a handkerchief held together with string. Upon closer investigation it turned out to be some sort of men's G-string contraption.
I picked the "garment" up for a closer look. The front, er, pouch, I could work out but the back bit had me puzzled (and wincing). How on earth do you wear a piece of string where the sun doesn't shine?
As I pondered this vexing issue (the second to confront me this week actually. On Monday I wondered how you brown sausages all over when they are curved and some bits don't touch the bottom of the pan. Watch this space.) a group of teenage girls walked by.
And they laughed.
As I stood there, G-string in my hand, trying to think of an excuse (I mean what can you say?) that familiar feeling of embarrassment crept forward again.
Hurriedly I put the garment back, paid for my purchase and went home to ring my mum.
My mum and I are quite alike. We both enjoy a "different" sense of humour, though I'm sure in a different century we probably would've been locked away somewhere, but she always makes it right.
So I knew when she picked up the phone and I heard that familiar voice all the reminders of my embarrassment would just melt away.
"I'm pleased you rang," she said.
"I was just thinking about your birthday. How you off for undies?"
