Every washing line has a story to hide.

Byline: Denis Kilcommons

IHAVE a confession to make. I can't pass a washing line without staring.

And no, I do not have a compulsion to look because of the possibility that someone's unmentionables may be blowing in the breeze. It is simple curiosity to get a glimpse into someone else's life.

It's not as if I go out specifically looking for a line of washing, but if I pass one, I invariably have a quick glance.

The sight of 10 football jerseys drying brings me out in compassion. The man of the house may play the game but, when it's his turn to clean the kit, he passes that responsibility on to his wife. Or rather, we did in my day.

Football kit makes me envious because I no longer play. Babywear means a young family.

Overalls of a certain hue indicates someone works at Asda (a place I shall never again visit while wearing blue tracksuit bottoms and a green sweatshirt).

"Excuse me." "I don't work here." "No, but excuse me ..." Being curious is natural. Like people who travel on the top decks of buses.

Go on, tell me you don't peer into the bedrooms you pass and mentally assess whether dusky pink paintwork really goes with the candlewick spread and aren't they untidy at number 24? And who knows what else you might see? I mean, it makes the journey home from work more of a reality aperitif before tuning into Coronation Street and the Life of Jordan.

Shopping trolleys are also fascinating but beware, they can lead to totally unfair judgements on some unsuspecting stranger in open-toed sandals in the check-out line simply because of the yoghurt, muesli and bran flakes he is buying.

Or how about the lady with the giant sized pack of beefburgers, eight tins of baked beans, deep fry chips and 12lbs of lard in her basket? I mean, who are we to assume anything? They could be shopping for someone else? Now how embarrassing would that be, to be sent out to buy goods not of your choosing and to be assessed in the queue on someone else's basket and found wanting? "They're not for me. They're for an elderly lady who lives down the road." Yeah, right.

My wife Maria and I are supermarket tarts.

We have no fealty to a certain store and no loyalty cards.

We buy bits from everywhere, including Home Bargains, and our basket can sometimes seems bizarre.

The other Saturday evening in Sainsbury's it contained a tin of dog food, a curry sauce, toilet rolls and a pack of Tetley Bitter. Now what would anyone make of that?

CAPTION(S):

* GOT YOU PEGGED: Roses are red, violets are blue, They''re out on the line, so I know it''s true