[sparrow]

In the early 90s, when I was about 30, I managed a London pub for a couple of years. I lived in a flat above the pub, and there was a spare bedroom for another full time member of staff. This was occupied for several months by an Irish barmaid, and after a couple of months her mother came over and stayed for a few nights. Her mother was probably in her 50s and had never been to London before - she told me that our West Indian chef was the first black man she had ever spoken to - and in general she came across as a quiet middle aged woman from a sheltered background.

Anyway, on the night she arrived we closed at 11 and me, the barmaid and her mother sat in the bar for an hour or so having a few drinks. We then headed upstairs and I went to bed slightly drunk. I have always slept naked. An hour or so later I woke up with a very full bladder and got up to go to the bathroom, but my dressing gown was not in its usual place on the back of the door. The bathroom was just opposite, and as far as I was aware everyone was fast asleep, so I opened the door to dash to the toilet at the exact moment that the barmaid's mother opened her door wearing the dressing gown that I had loaned her earlier because she had forgotten to pack her own. Following a brief moment of confusion I ducked back into my room, quickly pulled something on and went for a much needed piss. I then knocked on the barmaid's door, slightly concerned that I had traumatised her mother, and found both of them howling with laughter. I was partly relieved that they saw the funny side, and slightly miffed that when I said it wasn't a big deal her mother said "You're not wrong about that!".