I was walking the dogs in the vines yesterday when I saw a pair of knickers next to a freshly pruned vine. I didn’t care to examine them too closely but they didn’t look like they’d been discarded due to an unfortunate accident, they hadn’t been there for very long as I go past there quite regularly and the only item of clothing I’ve ever seen there before is a forgotten jacket left hanging on the end of a row and as they were green, lacey and pretty minimal I assume they must have come off a female. None of the vine workers I saw pruning that parcel over the last couple of weeks looked the type to wear ladies underwear though of course you can never tell.
This begs the question, why did anyone go into the vines to do whatever she or he did that involved leaving underwear behind? It’s all very well saying that people will go anywhere for a bit of how’s your father but it’s been raining a lot around here recently and you have to be really short of places to go if you’re prepared to settle for a muddy, damp vineyard that’s in full view of an, admittedly little-used, road. When I did the vendange several years ago on my co-workers was known as Dirty Emilie because she had a faintly grubby air about her that drove half the men there absolutely wild, especially as she gave off vibes that she was willing to ease their pain. Her brother who drove her home each evening was reputed to have had to wait while Emilie retired to the vines with one of her co-workers. However the weather was exceptionally good that year and come six o clock it was still well above 20° and the vines had all their leaves so she had a modicum of privacy even if everyone knew exactly what she was doing. And with whom.
The Mystery of the Discarded Pants… I feel that this is one that I’ll probably never find the answer to. I can’t say I’m that sorry.