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'I went to the shop in my pyjamas and what happened next was... well... click to find out'

'You can learn something from every experience in life - including wearing pyjamas in public'

[Premier Inn releases its first range of limited-edition pyjamas to help people get a great night's sleep.]

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Me and my pyjamas looked nothing like this. (Image: PinPep)

The name of the shop involved in the incident described in this column has been withheld to protect the shop's dignity.

Me, I'm named because I don't have much dignity left to protect as this week I went to the shop in my pyjamas.

Context is now urgently needed: When I say "pyjamas" I don't mean a nightgown, nightcap and candle on a saucer like you'd imagine from a Charles Dickens novel.

My pyjamas consisted of an old but extremely comfortable Adam and the Ants t-shirt, and dark brown fluffy pants that some may describe as loungewear. But they're definitely pyjama pants.

I was wearing sandals too, no socks. I wasn't in my home village - I'd been staying elsewhere for reasons you don't need to know and aren't particularly interesting anyway.

The reason I was in the shop in a state of pyjamaness is because I'd to get there in a hurry to get something as a favour for someone else.

And I didn't really realise I was wearing pyjamas until I was in the car, halfway to the shop, so I opted to brazen it out instead of turning back.

I went unnoticed on the walk from my parked car to the shop. There were people around, going about their business, but they were minding their own business too.

But inside the shop, the atmosphere changed. People looked at me - and then carried on... were they pretending they didn't notice, like I do when I see others in pyjamas?

In my defence - it was morning. I'd not been arsing about all day in pyjamas. I'd normally be wearing pyjamas at that time - just in the privacy of my own home, not a shop.

Anyway, I picked up the item I needed to buy - a pack of AAA batteries if you must know - and got in the line to pay.

Then, two places in the queue ahead of me, I spotted another man around my age. He too was wearing pyjama pants... blue with dozens of Cartmans from South Park on them.

I tried to make eye contact, to exchange a knowing nod, to acknowledge a comrade of sorts, to build strength in numbers.

But he wouldn't look at me. No words were exchanged between us and then, after he paid for his box of firelighters and bag of jelly snakes, he left and it was just me and the regular public.

I paid for the batteries - and though I was self-conscious, nobody treated me any differently than they would on a regular clothes-wearing trip to the shop.

Now that I've been one of them, I've learned to not treat pyjama wearers any differently too. I'll carry on pretending I don't notice their pyjamas - but I won't secretly judge them either.

Perhaps, like me, they're just dashing out for a moment, maybe they're getting AAA batteries for someone, these things - as I very much realised - happen.

And then I returned home, got fully dressed, and went back to bed.

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[Billy Scanlan]

Billy Scanlan

Billy Scanlan is the Editor of IrishMirror.ie

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