It's Linen

Lockdown makes you realise that you can miss even the most rubbish of office interactions...

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Oho! Somebody forget the iron this morning!

A gleeful voice proclaimed beside my desk.

I looked up from some precious documents. Before me stood a work colleague. Face lit up with delight at perceiving a vulnerability on which he could pounce.

Such is the way of some people, that the meagre joys they scrape from life seem to be based entirely on the discomfort they engender in others.

However, I am not typically one to lie docile in the face of such first world one-upmanship. Nor was I going to launch into a long explanation of why I had commited the cardinal sin of not ironing my shirt.

It's linen.

I stated flatly.

He looked uncertain, his knowledge of the weft and composition of various garments was obviously minimal and he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he decided how to return my unexpected curveball.

Linen eh? Whit, so yer oan the catwalk ur ye?
_{in his broad Glaswegian I believe he was implying I was set to strut the catwalk for wearing one of the forbidden fabrics for men}

Oh so deft! What nimbleness of the mind this one possessed. Oh well, engage friendly banter mode.

What's that on your chin?

Whit? Hahaha. Ye jealous of my beard noo?

If you didn't have half your lunch in it perhaps...

Eh, ha ha. Er... Aye right!

He fingered his forlorn wisp of a beard uncertainly. Torn between running to the nearest mirror and seeing if he had food trapped in there like a fawn in a thorn bush or staying to continue the game.

It takes a man to grow a beard boomdawg!

He declared victoriously after some hesitation.

I looked at him in the way I look at dogs defecating on my lawn.

I hope he gives you a nice big cuddle when you hand it back then.

I snarked.

He turned and left, cursing under his breath.

I contemplated running after him and delivering a damn good beating with my stapler but instead, turned to my PC and fired up Google and typed -

What is linen?