All right, they may not have been casually discarded. But discarded they obviously were.
I suppose at this point we may need a context. I was walking down the road heading for town. There are various parts of my route which are scenic, and there are other bits where the nicest thing you can say for them is the verge is very wide.
There at the side of the road, not really on the verge, not really on the road, was a pair of discarded Calvin Klein underpants.
I suppose it’s one of those things that can provoke thought. How exactly did they come to be discarded? After many years of experience I can say with confidence that when I’m fully dressed it is pretty well impossible for them to fall off by accident.
What is the drama behind this incident? Have we a case of the wandering, kilt-clad Scot who suddenly getting back in touch with his inner manifest destiny, to the skirl of pipes played by a piper heard only by himself, cast the offending garment away and walked off without them, kilt swinging proudly and only a little chilly.
Or was our Scot a man so thrifty that he kept them until the elastic finally gave up the ghost, and rather than abandoning them, they abandoned him?
Or has news leaked out that Calvin Richard Klein has done something, sponsored somebody or whatever that the wearer of these pants found so offensive that before the news broadcast had even finished than he tore his trousers off, removed the offending underpants and cast them contemptuously aside.
One of the advantages of living in a rural area is that you see aspects of people they never display elsewhere. I was checking young stock one morning. This involves walking from field to field meeting and greeting. I climbed over the gate from one field to walk along the lane to the next field and there, in the lay-by, was an assemblage of female underwear plus a pair of long boots.
After some thought I decided that I’d better mention it to the police, because you never know. A WPC came down in a car and I showed her to the place. She surveyed the underwear, bra, pants, and the really long boots.
As the WPC said, it wasn’t the underwear of a lady who should casually discard anything structural.
But they’d not had any disappearances reported and nobody had reported the clothing missing.
The only clue was that the clothing had been rained on, so it had to have been discarded the previous evening. After some thought the WPC came up with the suggestion that actually what we had was evidence of a white witch who had been dancing sky-clad to bring on the rain.
When the rain actually came, (pretty heavily if I remember correctly,) She’d just shrugged on a few clothes, dived into the car and had driven off, forgetting the rest. Certainly she couldn’t have put the boots on in a hurry.
Well it made as much sense as any other theory that I’d heard.
I’m not claiming it was all about a woman in love, but it might have been.
As a reviewer commented, “As usual, the storyline is well executed, in a deceptively causal tone, the characters believable and the conclusion contains a clever little twist making the whole read very enjoyable.
I love the way I learn a little more about the City, its inhabitants and customs, as well as the main characters, with every book.
Excellent little details about things like the local wines, food and clothes also add and enhance the story.
I’m looking forward to reading more in this series.”