I should not have been wearing those trousers, not my cream magic man-made fibre ones. Getting wet was okay, they dry off quickly enough. Hubby, “What on earth have you been doing?” ………..”prickly bushes scraped at me.”…………”It looks like charcoal”………….”Hmm it does, the wet bits have spread”………”You’ll have to rub yourself down with an eraser or two”…….”Not funny, ha,ha”.
Okay, I managed a smile.
So, there I was, trousers tucked into socks, sporting a striking black criss-cross pattern together with other various random black line marks, from the knees down. Looking around, hubby realised that the new pattern on my cream trousers was not from spiked bushes but from the remains of last year’s burned heather stubs.
Nothing for it, those trousers go in the wash, to hopefully surface fresh and creamy, as good as new, meantime, I go on the hunt for some black walking/hiking trews.
Posted at 17.05 DST