Forbidden Fruit: A Study in Familial Relationships
So I call my Mum this evening and ask her to get something from my knicker drawer. (We have a really open relationship.) "So, in my bottom drawer, there are a pair of leopard print knickers. Will you get them for me? I want to wear them to this festival this weekend in IMMA, over a pair of tights."
"Oh . . ." There's a pause. A deep breath. "I hope you're not going to embarrass me."
There's another pause. No one knows quite what to say. Then: "Well, I found something leopard print but surely this is a top . . . it's a top, Rosemary, it's enormous!"
"No, they're just really big knickers," I assure her. "With boning in them. Like a corset. They go up to your ribs." I can hear her turning them around, figuring it out.
"Oh. Right. I'll put them in my bag so," she says, sounding decidedly more relaxed. The only person I'll be embarrassing, let's face it, is me.