'Blast' from the past?

Farting, pumping, passing wind, blowing off, bottom burps - call it what you will - I have a huge problem with people (me) doing it in public.

Now I'm not so highly strung that I don't find fart stories funny, I even got asked to leave my Yoga class as I couldn't stop laughing at the old ladies creaking from their backsides every time they changed position - honestly, how anyone kept a straight face I'll never know!
My problem is that I have a huge problem with it - I don't do it within earshot or smelling distance of any other person. I just can't do it - end of story really!


Yesterday I had lunch with a friend - Ruth -who I've not been in contact with for years. We used to work together, but sadly lost touch after I went off to University and her marriage ended. We 'found' each other again through *facebook*.

So after we'd done the talking at 100mph trying to cram 10 years into 10 minutes, we started to talk about the good old days, the really funny times we'd had working together at an exclusive holiday village - where most of the guests earned more in 1 day than we did in 1 month - but I digress... - We laughed so hard about the 'How many cream cakes can you eat at once?' competition we used to have after the shops had closed. We laughed even harder when we talked about a mutual friend Dawn, who was so funny she should have been on the stage.

Then, to my horror, Ruth remembered the time that we were both working in the really expensive gift shop, the time that I FARTED. I have tried to block this memory, but I've got to admit that even I found it funny when Ruth was recounting it.

So here it is, I stare with you my most embarrassing memory....

Fridays were checkout days at the holiday village, Ruth and I were stood at the tills in the expensive gift shop. We had a queue of people waiting to pay for their ridiculously overpriced gifts.
Whilst serving a very handsome, if somewhat older chap, I bent under the till to get some tissue paper to wrap his vase. At the point of bending down I sneezed, which was quickly followed by the loudest fart I have ever produced.

I was mortified.

I maintained my half crouched, half bent over position. My face was so red I could have cooked a full English Breakfast on it.

Ruth was laughing so hard that she was snorting, but she eventually managed to regain her composure. Thankfully she accepted the tissue paper I was thrusting at her and she skillfully wrapped the vase and accepted the chaps money. She also worked through the queue of people with only a few sniggers escaping from her forced shut mouth.

I remained under the till until the queue of people had gone. Then we both laughed so hard that we were crying.

From that day on I have been scarred for life. I fear the creak that may sneak out when I least expect it. I'd rather suffer the achy stomach, the bloated feeling and the stinking car on my way home from work!!

I am a closet farter!