Today, instead of my usual “Men’s Comfort Stretch Hipster-Style” underpants with “24-hour Remain-Fresh Technology”, I am wearing ladies’ knickers. This wouldn’t be unusual if it wasn’t for the fact that all my previous cross-dressing has been for theatrical purposes. Apart from the time I went to school dressed as Miss Trunchbull, I have never worn women’s clothing to work.

During the early hours of this morning, Mrs Eddison arrived home from a Law Society awards ceremony and forgot to avoid disturbing me. By this I mean she closed the taxi door at the third time of slamming; got her key in the lock at the sixth time of giggling; got upstairs at the fourth time of stumbling; and flooded the bedroom with blinding light for no more than five minutes while she got undressed at the umpteenth time of staggering.

Thankfully, her snoring never got above low-level hippopotamus.

I am wearing her underwear because, in an effort to demonstrate good practice in how not to wake your spouse, I got dressed in the dark.

If the knickers were of the small and lacy variety, I might have noticed sooner. But these are her “Extreme Comfort No VPL High-Rise Full Briefs”, perfect for wearing under a fitted dress. Due to lack of sleep, I am in no mood to wear a fitted dress today.

If the knickers were of the small and lacy variety, I might have noticed my mistake sooner

While I brush my teeth, I ponder on how such a mistake might have been made. They had definitely been in my pants drawer. This is situated in my (significantly smaller) section of our clothing storage system. It’s at the other side of the bedroom to Mrs Eddison’s, so the only explanation that isn’t weird or Freudian is that they somehow got mixed up with my own undergarments during the sorting process and were put in there accidentally.

It reminds me of the time I found my car keys in Daniel’s tray. The idea that an eightyear-old boy who didn’t own a driving licence, hadn’t got a fob to operate the car-park barrier and who had gone home with his mum two hours earlier was planning to steal my car was dismissed in favour of a more reasonable explanation.

My car keys (like my diary, reading glasses, interactive whiteboard pen, bag, coat and so on) have gone missing on numerous occasions, but have always turned up again in places I would expect to find them; such as in the staffroom, on top of the photocopier, under stuff on my desk or in the toilets.

This was the first time I’d recovered a set of car keys from a student’s tray.

I might never have found them if I hadn’t had one last search of my desk drawer. That’s when I came upon a confiscated blue and white die-cast model of a Mini Cooper, which I remembered returning to Daniel’s drawer at lunchtime. Unless…

Now I really ought to creep back into the bedroom and change out of these knickers. But I’m already running late. And, to be honest, they are extremely comfortable.

Steve Eddison teaches at Arbourthorne Community Primary School in Sheffield