Donald Ducking It

I was on a Zoom call with Nigel and the children last Sunday.  Each of us was present as head and shoulders.  Pascoe asked,

“Anybody Donald Ducking it?”

That sounded rude.  “What on earth do you mean?”

“Think about Donald Duck, Mum.  What does he wear?”

“A sailor hat and a sailor top….and not much else.”

“Precisely – he doesn’t have any trousers. Now we’re all working by videoconference, nobody knows what you’re wearing under the desk.”

He was right – I’d put on a respectable shirt but beneath the table lurked ripped gardening trousers.

Since then, I have taken full advantage of this partial view.

On Monday, I went to work in the unflattering purple jeggings that I was a fool to buy, even if they were a knock-down bargain.

Today I am sporting the slim-fit black jeans with a silver snake-skin pattern which Carenza persuaded me to buy in a fit of overconfidence that she had on my behalf.

And guess what -  none of the pupils or coworkers I’ve met with on videoconferencing has said a thing.

So for tomorrow, I have got out my red sparkly leggings – seems a waste only to wear them on Christmas Day.