One of my most perplexing conundrums has been my missing pyjamas. It was some years ago when my dear wife gave me a pair of exclusive pyjamas. They were a Pierre Cardin’s creation with a special French fly in the pants giving easy access in any emergency. Very French. It gave our marriage yet another re-newel. A jewel of night apparel. Even though I wore it mainly in the dark, I slept contently in the knowledge that Vive La France and Pierre were kept alive with Liberté, Égalité but not so much with Fraternité. I am reasonably hetero but have no objection to anything in between. Go for it, has always been my motto.
It was during our sojourn of over fourteen years on our alpaca farm. We were very much into getting the histograms down on the fine fleeces that the alpaca is capable of producing. A histogram is a precise method of measuring the thickness of a fleece. The thinner the fleece’s fibre the more the price given for the fleece. We had bought a very good male with dense and fineness of fleece. It was up to him to make sure this fineness of fleece would be reproduced in his progeny. Hence his much desired matings when put in front of a willing female. His name was Ruffo’s- Ledger. He did his best and not once complained, never had a headache or sore foot.
We used to travel around with him in a trailer and take him for mobile matings to other alpaca farms. Like true troubadours, his legendary successful matings were sung far and wide and we soon made an income from him. He was keenly sought after by other alpaca breeders.It was also a social event. Coffee and cake inside, while Ruffo was ‘at it’ outside. We were always giving him his freedom unencumbered, onlookers were banned. Privacy above all, please.
Afterwards, having had our fill of coffee, Klassische Wiener Apfelstrudel and a thousand dollars in our pocket, we would head home. Ruffo was given an extra portion of Lucerne hay. Multiple matings to different females by Ruffo would be at a discount. He would be given a rest of an hour or so in between with an extra handful of Lucerne hay. Boy, was he happy. However, never more than three matings a day. We had principles and did not want Ruffo to succumb to post coital depressions or a heart attack. It did happen to other greedy breeders.
The reader can well imagine our interest in fine fleeces and fine apparel. This was a period of natural fibres and a strict avoidance, even a loathing, for anything artificial, acrylic or plastic. That’s how the beautiful woollen Pierre Cardin pyjama came about. The perfect pyjama. The dream gift from my lovely H. I used to sit around wearing it during the day, occasionally walking past the mirror, casting a quick glance at my magnificent clad exterior. Almost like wearing a suit. I would not have stood out, even at a wedding. Or perhaps I would have ?
It was a light powder blue in colour with a darker blue collar. The pants had a dark blue stripe at the bottom of the legs as well. I even wore it outside to the farm gate and back. The cows next door used to look up in admiration and gave a loud bellow of approval. Can you believe it?
It was during the move to our new address in BowraL that, after a while, I felt something was missing in my garderobe. My pyjama was missing. I am sure, the reader has similar disturbing events of missing items. It seems so inexplicable. How can pyjamas disappear on their own?
We sometimes got visited by Jehovah’s witnesses on the farm. They were remarkable. Always dressed immaculately. They were polite and most civil. When I had finally accepted that my pyjamas were gone for good I started to reflect on possible explanations. On the farm we always felt safe and when going to town hardly ever locked doors. It is likely some people visited us when we were not on the farm. Who amongst those visitors could have filched my pyjamas? That is the question. Pyjamas never disappear on their own.
I can only think that perhaps someone got in and stole my pyjamas. It is too preposterous an extrapolation to even consider the Jehovah witnesses. They are good people. Apart from Jehovah’s disciples there were also visits from a more Evangelical persuasion. Again, always fastidiously dressed.
Perhaps, is it possible? Can this have happened?
We know men are fallible. We so easily fall down with the lurking of temptations everywhere. Did a well dressed Evangelical person knock on the door? No one answered, but at the same time he might have noticed through the glass door, my Cardin pyjama slung casually over the arm chair. Was the temptation too overwhelming? In a moment of weakness the pyjama was snitched and hidden in the brief case, next to Moses’s sixth book; “repentance, and conversion — the great trumpet, the redemption of the world and life ….. Spirit, take three small pieces of wood from the Oosterman door-sill over which the thief passed in …”
Perhaps this is what happened. Stranger things have happened. We all know that.