It was still reasonably light as I meandered through a particularly leafy part of town, looking forward to getting home after a long day.The area, for I feel I need to name it, was Wheatley Hills.The sight? A couple of women, both wearing dressing gowns and sporting slippers out on the street, walking their dogs. One had a fag on the go.Walking their dogs. In dressing gowns.Not dogs in dressing gowns (that would be wrong on so many levels) but the owners, parading the highways and byways of leafy Wheatley Hills like they’d just stepped out of the bath.Now, before anyone accuses me of being a snob, I’m not.I used to live in this part of town and know full well how ‘posh’ Wheatley Hills residents love to distinguish themselves from ‘common’ Wheatley types on the other side of Thorne Road.Two very distinct areas, and never the twain shall meet, as people would often tell me, although I never entertained such divisive thoughts. Take as you find, and all that.But whatever part of town you’re from, is stepping out like you’ve just enjoyed from a relaxing spa massage at Champneys really a good thing?I realise we all nip out in our slippers or bare feet from time to time to stick the bin out, but that’s about as far as it gets for me (the bare feet).I’ve heard of people doing school runs in pyjamas, wandering round Tesco in their onesies – and even reports of someone strolling around Doncaster town centre in their slippers during the daytime.If memory serves, one supermarket had to impose a a dress code, so fed up were they of people perusing the fruit and veg while looking ready to call it a day and turn in for the night.My late grandad – the kind of man who’d wear a full suit and tie to do the gardening – would have been horrified.Now I’m not suggesting that we all don our Sunday best every time we set foot out of the house, but surely its not too difficult to slip on a few old clothes or if you must go out in a gown to walk Rover, at least pull a coat on. One of the two women was sporting bare legs – which left me wondering if they were actually wearing anything at all underneath the bath robes or whether I’d inadvertently driven onto the set of Wet and Wild In Wheatley Hills (which doesn’t actually exist – sorry to disappoint).Before you know it, there’ll be people running up and down Wheatley Hall Road in their pants.And no-one wants that. Do they?
Don’t answer that.