Operation Knickers part one

A free day which means I can go for the dog walk at Shooter’s Hill, after which I can tackle Operation Knickers.

It’s not just knickers. I need tights (thick and thin) and socks and vests. Oh, and a new bra would be nice. So I need a Marks and Spencer. Not so, says Rowan. M&S are terrible now. Apparently what I should be going for is the Tu line at Sainsbury’s. Knickers from a supermarket? It seems so. 

After lunch she drives me off to Charlton where there is a full M&S beside a Sainsbury’s megastore. We head into the latter and find the Tu section. Two packs of knickers in the trolley, and some tights. There’s no fitting room, so I try a bra on over my tank top. Not sure, but it’s probably fine. No socks or I like, so we go next door.

I am taking her word for this. Why shouldn’t I? I haven’t lived in the country for more than a decade, haven’t set foot in London for four years. Yes, it’s been Marks and Sparks for knickers (etc) for my entire life, but things do change. It is certainly still M&S for socks. Might as well pick up some more sparkling rosé.

Back at the house I try the bra on properly. Nope. It’s a dud. Fortunately I can return it. Realise I forgot about vests. Damn.

Oh, and it’s fucking hot. Nothing for it but a dip in their “pool”.