The Pyjama Game

I went to work in my pyjamas today.

Well, I should qualify that comment before everybody has visual images of smart Paisley pattern two piece sleepwear, a Onesie in Comic Book Superhero guise, a flannelette combination with a flap in the back or just pants.

I do not possess nor actually have access or use of any of the aforementioned night apparel (apart from functional pants) although I admit to being a wee bit envious of those who do and no doubt luxuriate in them before, after and to some extent during their nocturnal hours.

My modest night time wear in which I awoke on this particular morning comprised baggy, soft cotton shorts with a drawstring tie-up and a well worn T shirt bearing the slogan by Holy Moly of "Jack Bauer wouldn't stand for all of this shit".

Only a minority of the global population will have no knowledge of the Bauer character played by Kiefer Sutherland over I think about ten series of the real-time drama "24".

It was an easy decision to leave the house, by car, in my pyjamas.

It was a lovely late September morning and although there was a sharpness in the air there was by 7.30am some background warmth from an enthusiastic sun.

I needed to make a quick trip over the 3 miles to my office in order to drop off some paperwork so that it could be typed up during the following working hours in my absence for a day off hosting relatives of my wife whom were staying with us from Australia.

On a normal weekday I wear a proper business suit, city shoes, crisp shirt and a tie, yes, I insist on a tie which otherwise seems to have been ousted from everyday use in favour of an open necked style.

In anticipation of the day off I was a bit more relaxed about my clothing although I admit to being conflicted over the choice between jim-jams and formal wear even for such a basic chore.

It was an impulsive decision to leap straight out of bed, grab a pile of papers, the keys to the office and then drive off in the car.

I was running a bit of a risk in my appearance if, for example, I had the misfortune of an accident or was seen by someone who knows me through my day to day work.

In 2010 the Tesco Supermarket chain imposed a ban on those customers who turned up to shop in nightwear and bare feet with the main reason cited being that allowing it could upset and offend other customers. Tesco insisted that they were not imposing a dress code but wanted to maintain certain standards. Perhaps they had experienced individuals exploiting the previous lack of rules and turning up in ill fitting, baggy and saggy pyjamas with a risk of indecent exposure when stretching for an item on the upper shelves or bending down to pick up an item on the lower levels.

I admit that my nightwear was somewhat flexible in that the shorts were of a very light cotton and the T shirt perhaps a bit of a snug fit, after all I had owned it for the past decade in which time my body shape has altered to some extent.

I had weighed up the pros and cons of my early morning dash.

a) It was likely that no-one who knew me would see me.
b) My family were still fast asleep and therefore, thankfully, oblivious of my antics.
c) I would only be out of the car for a matter of say a dozen paces to and from the office door to mitigate the risk of a clothing malfunction or flash of bodily flesh.

Sat in the drivers seat I could have been naked from the waist down for all of the interest shown by other motorists over the short, mainly urban commute. The fact that I was in my pyjamas did give me a bit of a thrill, a bit like, as a child, doing something naughty and with a good chance of getting away with it.

The journey was uneventful, similarly the dash across the car park to the office door.

I searched for my set of keys as the cotton shorts, although with a pocket, had enveloped the bunch into its inner folds. The business park surroundings were deserted at that time and so what could have been construed as a frantic fumble to any onlookers was a mere matter of inconvenience to me.

After about ten minutes of sorting out the work for the day and checking my diary appointments for the next it was time to return to the car.

A few conscientious employees of neighbouring businesses were beginning to arrive and so I had to adopt a more furtive stance across the open tarmac to reach the vehicle.

Safely behind the steering wheel I felt a combination of relief and empowerment.

What next?

Perhaps a test of the observational powers of the security staff at the local Tesco in order to secure some breakfast after a busy morning.