Thursday, March 27, 2008


It is 10.45am on Thursday morning and I am in my white pyjamas and dressing gown sitting at my Mac writing up an artist submission letter for a Bursary Award. The kids are outside in the sunshine playing on a neighbours bouncy castle. Audrey comes into the study to ask me if she can have a can of Coke because even she knows that bouncing while high on caffeine is much more fun.

When I say no she informs me with a hint of a smile that the dog has escaped out through the open front door. I run out and see Molly 20 feet up the road sniffing the neighbours dog who's twice the size of her. When I call her name she runs further away up the road so I run after her with my dressing gown billowing out and my feet bare. Croagh Patrick has nothing on this I can tell you.

Eventually I catch up with her and she sits down refusing to move. I change my tone of voice from strict to sweet and playful even though I believe I could manage a pretty good drop kick down the road and over the roof of our house if I knew for sure the neighbours weren't watching.

So I playfully call her name as we trot back down the road and into our drive not daring to look around me to see if anyone is looking. It is when I step into the house and gather myself that I notice my white vest has slipped down on the left hand side and I've just run the length of our road outside with my left breast exposed.


karen harper said...

hey Ellen
All we are missing with this post is the photo, then I would definately wet myself laughing....

(actually did something similar while snorkling!!)

jothemama said...

Oh, it happens. The scary thing is that no one ever tells you! I think women should have a pact, to let each other know when they're accidentally flashing.

It was a beautifully erotic image though, Ellen. You should do a painting of it, the billowing white silk, etc!