It’s been an unbelievably hot and humid week in the suburbs of London. I’m still in semi-lockdown working-from-home mode and, when not naked, I’m still enjoying spending the day in some of the garments from my beloved underwear and swimwear collection. In fact, it’s the only thing I’ve been wearing around the house and garden now for a number of weeks. I think I’ve finally (after all these years) realised that this is probably a bit of a fetish. If it is, then so be it. I’m a bit too long in tooth now to be concerned about what others may think. I find that we (the British) can have a slightly prudish attitude to a man wearing anything more revealing than a pair of horrendous baggy shorts while at the beach, local park or, even in their own garden. Unfortunately, wearing a thong on a relaxed Mediterranean beach in beautiful weather feels like a distant memory and sadly, who knows when it will be realised again?
Anyway, the usual household chore of washing has been a pleasure and an absolute breeze this week.