I had a couple of close scrapes. When I was younger, probably around 11 or 12, I would often stay at home when the rest of the family went out to the shops (this was the 1970’s – a time when no one really bothered about leaving their kids alone). To them, I was just wanting to watch TV and reading my comics – in reality I was secretly wearing my mum’s woolly tights and prancing around the house in them. Unfortunately, they came back earlier than I expected and I just managed to grab my clothes and lock myself in the bathroom before they came up the stairs (something that became a habit later on). Even now, I can remember my heart pounding as I tried to find the right opportunity to put them back in her drawer without anyone noticing.
However, when I was older and bought my own (an experience in itself for a teenage boy), I hid them in what I thought was a little hidey-hole behind my desk drawer in my bedroom. What I hadn’t counted on was her doing a spring clean one day whilst I was at school and finding them. At first I thought I’d got away with it, but she walked out of my room and, without even looking at me, said: “By the way, get rid of those tights”.
To this day, I’m not sure whether she thought they were mine or some girlfriend’s – but it was never mentioned again. At that point I wondered whether she actually knew I had been trying her tights on all those years before.