I was in trouble again on Christmas day. Aunty was insisting we visit Mrs Jacobson's for afternoon tea as she had accepted the invitation. I was reluctant to go, not least because I was already wearing my Christmas pyjamas that Aunty had given me that morning. She had made me put them on for Christmas dinner. They were footed pyjamas covered with snowmen. I knew I looked like an overgrown toddler but Aunty was adamant that I looked very smart and that they were just the thing to wear for visiting. However I was determined not to give in and put my foot down, declaring that I was not about to parade around in my winceyette footed pyjamas for anyone. Aunty smiled, "very well," she said, "no footed pj's for you it is."
I should have realised my mistake. With a twist of my earlobe I was across Aunty's lap and getting my bottom well and truly warmed. "In the corner and don't move," she threatened retuning quickly with a pair of pink floral pyjamas draped over her arm. "Since you don't want to wear your lovely new footy jim-jams to go visiting you can wear these instead." Aunty forced me to put on the frilly pink pyjamas and five minutes later I was being ushered into Miss Jacobson's front room to be confronted by a room full of her friends.
"Well, well what have we hear," Mrs Jacobson said. " I thought we were going to see you model his new footed pyjamas?" Aunty explained my reluctance and told the assembled women that I was wearing the pink pyjamas as a punishment but that she had bought my footed ones along with her and she would make me wear them later on. One of the ladies patted the seat beside her and beckoned me to sit down.
"Do come and sit beside me, I have heard so much about you, and here you are looking ever so sissy in your jimjams," she gushed. Hesitantly, I took my place beside her. It was going to be a long afternoon.