If the suit fits...

The need to wear a suit after a fair while once again arose this morning so I dutifully unloaded the old stager from the wardrobe and put it on.  I'll be honest, it was a bit of a struggle.  This is odd because all my other very ancient clothes fit fine.  I persevered with the waist hooks (it's a formal trouser thing, ladies) until they snapped into place, leaving me gasping for breath, feeling like I was enacting a period drama and for some reason had been sent to the female costume department for the most 'Keira Knightley' of corsets.  Mercifully, the jacket was a little more forgiving - it seems my neglect of those pecs and abs has paid off - so I ended up suited and booted.

I trooped off to meet with people whom I sought to convince that I was the absolute fulcrum around which their operation should turn, we chatted for some time and eventually we all parted as friends. Whether 'friends' will translate into 'colleagues' I could not say but there we go.  I had done my best and I was content - even more so when I came upon a patisserie right outside the building i had been visiting!

(Now, when I say 'patisserie', what I actually mean is a baker's whose proprieters had clearly read too many Sunday supplements and who decided that what their apple turnovers, pasties and Eccles cakes needed was a French moniker behind which to hide as they lay in wait for innocent people like me.  I blame Brexit - primarily as it will make any Brexiteers furious.)

I left the 'patisserie' with a skip in my step and a pasty AND an Eccles cake in my hand - bad, bad boy.  

On the way home, I stopped off at the chippy, feeling better about the world all the time.  The sun was shining but I'll be honest, I couldn't have given two hoots: I was having pasty and chips for lunch and as far as I was concerned the universe was in full alignment.

My lunch was perfect and was made better by the fact that, being taken quite late, I would have no need for a meal later (yeah, right...).  I ate my cake, drank my tea and snarled at Twitter for a bit but as 3pm approached and My Beloved returned, I knew I had to look busy, so I leapt up, tidied, washed up and went upstairs to change.

And here's the rub.

The suit, which had been a tad snug this morning, was now rather like the Aswan Dam after a particularly wet January in the Sinai (I know: work with me).  The addition to my comfortable proportions of a delicious pasty, some chips and what can only be described as a stupendous Eccles cake had essentially required the trousers to call in all the staff from leave to manage the situation.  The clasps tightened, the proverbial townspeople living below the dam cowered in fear - or, to come back from this rather overworked metaphor, I couldn't get my trousers off.

The clasps, needing to be pushed together to be released, were simply not having it.  I struggled for several seconds before coming up with the genius idea of removing my shirt first.  'Well done, me', thinks I but the trousers still weren't having it.  I blame the Eccles cake although if brought before a court of law it could reasonably use as its defence my entire life up to now and it would have a point.  The Eccles cake would be released without charge and I'd be paying the costs.

The Eccles cake absolved of responsibility, I continued with my struggle.  I considered calling down the stairs for My Beloved to help me but a moment's reflection on what her likely response would be (laughter, derision, a ban on pastry - in the name of humanity!) convinced me that this was not the way to go.

We fought on, me and the trousers - they, once loyal friends, now evil betrayers, cutting into me.  I cursed; they remained unmoved.  I laughed at the absurdity of the situation and wondered if I might thus lure the trousers into a false sense of security but these bad boys were having none of it.  It was cruel, spiteful even.

Eventually, some as yet undefined rule of the universe allowed me to prevail and the trousers unhooked.  I was free!  Free and just a little chastened.

Chastened, yes. Moved to change? 

What do you think...

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