It's a little bit funny this feeling inside .......... - Elton John

Robbie didn't have the best start this morning, he arrived at the station and realised that he had left both his blackberries on the dining table, so I had to make a mercy dash to reunite him with his phones. I wasn't best pleased but when I saw his guilty grin I couldn't be cross with him. When he leaned into the car to give me a kiss and to say thank you, he mentioned that he had a strange pins and needles type pain at the top of his leg, just below his buttock. He said it felt a bit like when the injection is wearing off after dental treatment. I was worried because it did not sound like his usual sort of pain.


When I checked on him a bit later on he mentioned that the discomfort seemed to be moving down his leg and it was very itchy. I didn't hear from him again until later that morning when the cause of his problem had been discovered. He was out until late last night and when he came home he decided that he had wash his 'smalls' because he wanted to wear his favourite pair the next day. I was tired and left him to it. Apparently he didn't check the dryer before he put his items in to dry. I had washed all my kitchen cloths earlier in the day and somehow a small flat scourer found its way unnoticed into Robbie's pants! By the time he had got to work it had worked its way down his leg and as he made himself a cup of coffer it fell out from his trouser leg!

The Wrong Trousers

Believe it or not there was yet another chapter to the trouser saga! Just in case anyone reading this has not read my recent posts I will recap briefly. Some time before Christmas we agreed that Robbie needed a new suit so he did his research, which included several trips to Marks and Spencer - his favourite shop. He chose the suit that he wanted but our local M&S had no stock in the size he needed so it was necessary to order the items online. They sell the jackets and trousers separately and much to Robbie's annoyance they had the jacket that he wanted in stock, but the trousers were not available in his size. So we decided to order the jacket and wait for them to get more stock of the trousers. Christmas came and went and Robbie (who had been checking the website twice a day) had almost given up on ever getting the trousers. Then finally the great day came, they were in stock and Robbie placed his order, he knew what size he needed and he ordered exactly the same size as the trousers he already has. He collected his trousers on a Friday from M&S in Birmingham, but he got distracted when leaving work and he managed to leave his trousers on his desk. The trousers had to be 'rescued' the following day but when he tried them on he found that they didn't fit, they were a bit on the tight side. It didn't make sense, they were exactly the same size as the ones he already has that fit him perfectly. He ordered the next size and when they arrived he said they were much more comfortable so he wore them to work. 


Sadly that was not the end of the matter, he claimed they were too loose even with a belt and they kept slipping down. I don't want him to be arrested, so we will need to take the waist in a bit, next he said that they are too long and he is afraid of treading on them as he walks so we need to do something about the leg length too!  I am sick of the whole trouser issue and Robbie seemed deeply affronted that he may be a non standard fitting. Anyway after weeks of constant complaint about trousers I have come up with the perfect solution - a kilt! It would certainly turn a few heads!!

Route Knowledge?

Robbie has been extending his route knowledge recently, or at least that's his excuse. The combination of disturbed sleep (due to pain) and new medication caught up with him on his journey to work and he fell asleep on the train before reaching New Street. He awoke to find himself heading for Walsall - the train had reached New Street and departed again! Fortunately he catches a very early train in order to have a more comfortable journey so even after his 'little diversion' he was still at work in good time. Poor Robbie, he put on a brave face and joked about 'route knowledge' but he was quite upset about it. Sometimes trying to manage chronic pain can make even the simplest things very difficult.

When I wrote my previous blog entry about Robbie leaving his trousers at work, I thought that was the end of his 'trouser troubles' but the drama continued. Despite being exactly the same size as the trousers that he already has (that fit him perfectly) the new trousers didn't fit, so I had to deal with a very disappointed Robbie. We had the folded arms, the sulky look and the jutting bottom lip, but eventually he had to accept defeat and order a different size. The new ones arrived on Friday, but he has been so poorly that he hasn't tried them on yet - I think I will cry if these don't fit! 

Tracking Down the Trousers.

When it comes to excuses my family have always been more imaginative than most, but Robbie is in a class of his own. When he asked me to brave Birmingham on a Saturday he knew very well that I would say no, the thought of visiting Birmingham at any time fills me with horror. So he needed a good excuse to persuade me to join him on a trip to Birmingham on a Saturday. He announced that he had left his trousers at work and he needed to go and fetch them. It was not as worrying as it sounds, the railways were not brought to a standstill by the sight of Robbie in his 'smalls', the trousers in question were his long awaited new M&S trousers and he'd left them on his desk. They could have waited until Monday, but having waited weeks for them to have his size in stock he didn't want to risk them getting lost. 


Robbie's track record when it comes to losing contact with his clothing is careless at the very least. His raincoat made an unplanned trip to to Plymouth without him last year when he left it on a train, he has previously left trousers, a hoodie, other sundry garments and his notebook on various trains. He has even dozed off and left himself on the train before! So rescue missions to recover missing items or a stranded husband are not uncommon. I grudgingly agreed to accompany Robbie on a trip to Birmingham to collect his trousers and we decided to make it a fun afternoon (not that 'fun' is a word that I would usually associate with a visit to Birmingham). 


It was interesting to visit Robbie's office, it is rather nice. We also visited a couple of shops, Muji where I bought a set of nesting dolls for my next art project and Cybercandy which is amazing. I have bought items from their website before, but it was nice to visit the shop and see all the confectionery products from different countries. I was most tempted by the cans of 'soda' they sell root beer and I love root beer! They also sell Tab, just seeing that can brought memories flooding back. Robbie promised me a visit Starbucks, I prefer Costa because they do much nicer tea, but Robbie likes Starbucks and I have to admit that their fruit toast is rather nice.  

Decisions, Decisions

We had a rather unusual Friday evening. We were going out to a rather special event on Saturday and the only instruction was to wear something that we would feel comfortable in. To me comfortable means something that will not dig in when I sit down and something that makes me feel reasonably confident (or at least something that doesn't make me look like the back of a bus) I had thought about it during the week and by Friday evening I knew exactly what I wanted to wear, Robbie on the other hand hadn't  given it any thought until Friday evening. Asked my advice and I suggested jeans and his red T-shirt, but he rejected that idea on the grounds that it was not smart enough, then he vanished.

He reappeared after a few minutes wearing only his pants (scary) and clutching a selection of clothes. He appeared in front of me wearing a tucked in coloured check shirt and his smart casual charcoal trousers. The trousers are very nice and the shirt is OK but together they made him look 'special' with just a touch of the Simon Cowell waistband going on. I gave him a very firm no, but being Robbie he kept asking why so we had to have an in depth discussion about it. Robbie tried several more outfits, and that annoying word 'why' popped up far too often. In the end I felt as if I was trapped in an endless episode of Mr Benn, there was far too much dressing up going on. I wonder how Mr Benn's wife felt about all that dressing up, it was very dubious. We ended up more or less where we started, Robbie decided to wear his jeans with a nice shirt - tucked out.  The whole experience made me recall a cartoon that I saw recently, men and women really do see things differently when they look in the mirror!

Good Advice - Keep Your Mouth Shut!

Sometimes I wonder about my fellow human beings, they say and do some really stupid things at times, if only they would stop and think first! At the checkout in a toyshop a 'normal' looking woman began shouting at a member of staff. She had bought a dolls twin buggy and was complaining that the shop did not sell twin dolls. The member of staff explained to her that she could buy two identical dolls of her choice, or she could choose dolls with the same features but different outfits, or even a boy and a girl doll from the same range! The woman continued to shout and swear and insisted that it would be no good unless it said 'twin' on the box!! 


'Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent' Proverbs 17.28 

In the same toy shop I spotted a display of Smurf figures. It reminded me of visiting Roy's Toys in Wroxham with Robbie, when he saw the Smurfs he was so excited that he practically jumped up and down and begged to buy one. Anyway, I was looking at a box containing a set of Smurfs and I realised how closely they represented the many faces of Robbie. Before he takes offence I'd better explain. There is one with (almost) Robbie type glasses carrying a book, it reminds me of the countless times he says "Did you know ..........................." There is one with red trousers (enough said on that subject in my recent post), there is one with a daft grin and one with his arms folded looking very moody. Even the one in the kilt reminds me of Robbie because he never misses an opportunity to show off the Burgess legs! There is also a female Smurf (Smurfette) I am not suggesting that Robbie is a closet tranny, of course not, he has no problem being in touch with his feminine side. He often tells me that he was just as happy to play with Barbie dolls with his cousin as to play with his beloved Tonka toys. I tried to make sure that my own children were brought up in the same way. 

So which of those Smurfs is my favourite? that is easy, it has to be Grouchy because that expression is so like Robbie when he has a strop! 

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society - Mark Twain

My mum is an amazing woman. She loves clothes and at 80 she likes nothing better than a shopping trip with her granddaughters. When it comes to clothes shopping she loves fashion and she shops enthusiastically, she has plenty of stamina and she will happily shop all day. She likes bright cheerful colours, high shoes and matching accessories. She gave up on my fashion sense years ago; she respects my right to wear more sober styles and very little make up but just occasionally she will tell me "you can wear that when you are dead!" 

My mum finds Robbie's approach to fashion rather surprising, but she supports his right to express his individuality and to wear bright colours - but perhaps not all at once! They often chat about clothes and shoes and Robbie likes nothing better than flicking through her collection of catalogues to 'window shop'. Earlier this week he was flicking through her cotton traders catalogue and showing me the many things that he would like when suddenly he emitted a groan of delight. He said "oh yes, they would look great with some bright contrasting boots, I really want them" He thrust the catalogue in front of me to reveal that 'they' were a pair of bright red trousers. I gave him a steady stare trying to work out if he was serious - he was! He looked to my mum for support but she tactfully said there may not be many opportunities to wear red trousers. I told him that it would be a mistake, he would look like Santa on his day off - or a Smurf!! I just hope that he will see sense.

Teenagers are people who express a burning desire to be different be dressing exactly alike.

The son who must remain nameless has been at home since finishing his GCSE's in early June and before that he had exam leave  so it feels as if he has been 'at leisure' for a very long time. He started sixth form at his new school on Tuesday so on Monday he and I had a shopping day to get an extra pair of shoes and some more trousers for school. It was really nice to spend some time together, usually I am just the taxi!


I am not a natural shopper, in fact I go to town so rarely that I find that a number of the shops have changed since I was last there. So I was not fully prepared for the joys of Topman and River Island. Why do they have to be upstairs? Clearly 'the nameless one' gets his love of clothes and clothes shops from his dad. I was fairly calm when he showed the carrot cut chinos that he wanted, they were in a colour that I am more used to seeing in the cat tray on a very bad day but I don't have to be seen out in them so I gave in without a fight.


Next we looked at 'boat shoes' apparently they are retro, they would certainly not have looked out of place in the old men's section at Marks and Spencer. His heart was set on a pair that were navy blue and brown and eventually he found a pair to fit. That was the easy bit, the price was a bit hard to take, but if that is what he chose to spend his shoe allowance on he will have to wait a while for the next pair.

He also needed what he described as a pair of short joggers for sport. Apparently he had seen a pair that were just right and he wanted me see them. After trailing around the entire store he finally found the desired garment and my composure became a distant memory. They were in a dirty off white colour in a loose almost baggy fitting with cuffs around the knee. I couldn't possibly let him be seen out in public in something like that, I have seen a similar garment in the past but it was worn by an elderly man at a care home who needed extra room for a nappy! The price was the deciding factor, this was one desire that he would not become reality. We went to a sports shop and found some (slightly) more normal sports shorts. We went into several other shops so that he could show me all the items on his wish list so by the time we drove home my feet were killing me. I have seen some sights in my life, but those joggers were certainly 'memorable' for all the wrong reasons! 

Fashion is more usually a gentle progression of revisited ideas.

I haven't seen much of Robbie since we got back from Norfolk. On Monday he went to work even earlier than usual and he was late home, then on Tuesday he got me up stupidly early because he was going to Scotland. I didn't see him again until late on Wednesday evening when he got home late in the evening. He did manage to ring me late on Tuesday evening, but it was more of a monologue on the subject of trains than a conversation. When he got home he was fairly talkative, but as usual it was all about trains, except for a brief description of the design of the lift at the hotel he stayed in and a casual mention of the type of fabric used to make the  underwear that is in the sale at Marks and Spencer. Sometimes I just wish that Robbie could be a little more 'normal'. 

I have taken time to spend some time with my son this week (the one who does not wish to be named). I missed him very much when we were on holiday, so on Monday we went shopping for things he will need for school in September. Like me he has a fascination with stationary and pens, so it was fun shopping for all that stuff. When it comes to clothes I find his fashion sense interesting and rather confusing.  According to George Bernard Shaw 'The novelties of one generation are only the resuscitated fashions of the generation before last'. That is certainly true in his case, I feel sure that my dad would have worn cardigans in the early 1960s like the ones that 'the nameless one' wanted! I had already bought some shirts and trousers for him but he wanted a couple of cardigans. I made him wait for those, partly because they were very expensive and partly he has been known to change his mind. He had waited for several weeks and he was still just as determined that they are exactly what he needs for sixth form, so we went ahead and got them. I have to admit that they look much better on him than they did in the shop. I am still not so sure about his trousers, I had just about got used to him insisting on skinny fit, but apparently carrot fit is the must have 'look'. I asked him to explain what carrot fit meant and he said that they are a new interpretation of skinny fit, 
they are are worn loose at the thigh tapering to a skinny ankle. I couldn't help asking why? To me they look very odd with a baggy bottom and the crotch only just above the knees! It certainly doesn't look very comfortable, I just hope that it doesn't give Robbie any strange ideas, he has more than enough clothing fetishes already.



'Fashion is more usually a gentle progression of revisited ideas.' Bruce Oldfield

A Task Delegated to Women?

According to the Telegraph there are some things that women do much better than men, that is no surprise to me, in fact I think women can do most things better than men. However I was rather surprised that buying underwear for men is among the many tasks that women fulfil for the men in their lives. According to a survey conducted by Debenhams men only take responsibility for 17 years of their lives!

Apparently by age 19 young men assert their independence by choosing their own underwear. Judging by the males in our family their independence doesn't yet extend to transporting their smalls to the laundry basket, but we live in hope. By age 36 men have delegated the responsibility of buying their pants to their wives or girlfriends. I don't pretend that Robbie is a typical male, the world can only cope with one Robbie, but in this respect he seems to be 'normal'. When Robbie and I first got together I soon realised that I wouldn't be able to change his 'unique' approach to fashion but at least I persuaded him that baggy boxers were not a good look, they bunched up under his clothing and made him look as if he very odd. That was the extent of my influence until recently when he started to have trouble with his trousers. Suddenly I am not only buying his pants, but I'm being treated to a personal 'catwalk experience' as he tries on each new pair and struts around the lounge showing them off. Scary stuff!

This really isn't a job that I am ready for. Robbie is the one who is into clothes not me. He gives hours of thought to what he wears (yes really!) but as far as I am concerned if it is clean, comfortable and it doesn't make me look like the back of a bus I'm happy. Why shop for clothes when you could go to a bookshop instead? So why am I spending hours contemplating the comfort of Robbie's nether regions? I think it is about time that he stopped being a statistic and took back responsibility for buying his smalls!

The Quest for Perfect Pants

For someone who claims to love being naked Robbie manages to get very up tight about his pants. Several weeks before Christmas we decided that Robbie absolutely had to have a new suit for work. The trousers belonging to his favourite suit were becoming rather see through - not a good look, and the jacket of his other work suit had something odd going on with the collar that made him look as if he had no neck. So rather reluctantly we had to break open the piggy bank and beat the VAT rise. Nothing is ever simple when it comes to dressing Robbie and when the suit arrived the trousers didn't fit quite as well as he'd hoped, so they were returned and the replacement order was delayed by the heavy snow. We finally collected the new trousers after Christmas So Monday was the first chance Robbie had to wear his new suit to work - and that is when the trouble began!

When he chose a wool blend suit I pointed out the risk of irritation, but Robbie assured me that he was not sensitive to wool and there was no risk of it making him itch. The suit had other ideas! Robbie arrived home on Monday evening walking like John Wayne, he made it as far as the kitchen before removing his trousers and inviting me to feel his legs. I have seen worse but I had to agree that there was a hint of redness probably caused by the trousers. I prescribed some E45 cream, but Robbie didn't seem keen on getting cream on his hands and I didn't offer to rub it in for him, so his legs remained uncreamed until bed time. Every half an hour or so he got up from his chair and plodded over in his pants to ask me to look at his legs, there was nothing much to see but they were obviously causing him some discomfort. I spent the evening searching online for the perfect pair of pants to remedy the problem and he finally settled on some rather attractive sports underwear from his beloved Marks and Spencer. He intended to make an urgent visit to M&S the next day. So when I plodded off to bed I was hopeful that the solution to the problem was within reach.

We were rather late going to bed and as always I was trying to get to sleep before Robbie arrived. He sat gnome like on the bed contemplating his inner thighs. I urged him to put some E45 cream on his legs and then settle down and get some sleep, my sympathy was fast being eroded by exhaustion. He asked me to get him the cream so I got out of bed and passed it to him then I snuffled back under the covers, clearly it was going to be a long night. After what seemed like hours I out from the covers to see Robbie dispensing a pea sized portion of cream on to one finger and then attempting to rub it in with just one finger. I urged him to get a sensible amount of cream and rub it in with his whole hand or neither of us would get any sleep. He must have taken my advice because he eventually got into bed, but almost as soon as he settled down he started to make strange noises, like a whimper mixed with a groan. Apparently the cream was making his legs sting even more, unbelievably he was asleep within a few minutes but his legs still seemed to have a life of their own. By the time I got to sleep it was time to wake up again, suddenly single beds seem a very attractive option!

How Did He Do That?

Why do the men in my family have so much problem with their clothes and why does it always have to involve me. On Friday morning Robbie was not wearing his suit (because it was dress down Friday), so when I spotted his suit trousers on the bedroom floor, I escorted them to the laundry basket. A little later I was downstairs wondering why Robbie hadn't left yet when I heard what sounded like an entire army galloping around upstairs, after a series of loud manoeuvres a read faced and breathless Robbie thundered down the stairs clutching a Roy Cropper style shopping bag containing his suit. Apparently I had made him late by hiding his trousers and made him miss his bus so I had to give him a lift to the station. He had a meeting during the day so he needed his suit for the meeting and I had creased his trousers. According to him he had not hung them on the floor, he had draped them near the television in full view so that he didn't forget them!

I may have inadvertently hidden his trousers, but I am fairly useful when it comes to sewing buttons on and general mending, both Robbie and Sam get themselves into some very odd scrapes with their clothes. When we were on holiday Robbie managed to catch his stomach on a door handle and tear his new shirt, it took ages to mend it. How on earth does anyone catch their stomach on the door handle, I can understand how you could scrape your arm or perhaps even rip your pocket, but he must have been walking sideways to catch his stomach on the door handle!

How To Tell A Man's Age From The Position Of His Waistband

Paul Baldwin director of menswear at Debenhams claims that the way a man wears his trousers is directly related to his age. The research carried out by Debenhams shows that waistbands plummet during the teenage years and then steadily creep up until reaching a peak at age 57. Mr Baldwin states that the research is important because the position of the waistband determines how the trousers are made.

Read the full article
http://socyberty.com/men/a-mans-age-is-indicated-by-the-position-of-his-waistband/

A Big Mistake

I think I have mentioned before that I wear contact lenses but I often don't put them in until I need to go out. On Sunday morning I was in a bit of a hurry because I needed to pick Sam up from church and then we were all going to my mums for a belated birthday celebration for my step father. As often happens the time rushed past, I'd been busy writing an article, then suddenly I noticed the time and I had to rush to have my bath and get ready. I decided to wear my jeans, they are too big really but they are ideal for going to mum's because her dogs jump all over me. I got dressed and rushed downstairs, but when I put my boots on I noticed that I kept treading on the back of the trousers, they seemed to have grown in the wash. Closer inspection revealed my mistake - they were Robbie's jeans! As they say, more haste less speed.

Two Tone

I am short sighted, I wear contact lenses, but in the mornings I manage fine around the house without needing to see anything clearly. In fact it can be a benefit not to see things in detail, the lurid colours of Robbie's socks are too much to cope with early in the morning. If I have to drive to give someone a lift or whatever, I wear my glasses and then take them off again when I get back. That explains how I managed to let Robbie out of the house improperly dressed yesterday - when he got to work he found that he was wearing his black suit trousers and his charcoal grey suit jacket! I will have to do what I used to do with the children and check him over before I let him out of the house in the mornings.

Why Does He Do That?

This morning as I was sitting on the bed drinking my tea I watched Robbie getting dressed. It wasn't his body that I found so fascinating, it was the method. I have always known that he has the shower process organised and timed to the last second. Not only can he tell you what order the 'bits' have to be washed in, but he has also timed each action and he knows exactly how many squirts of shower gel are required, needless to say he also dries himself 'by numbers' too!

When he gets dressed the socks come first, he has a very special relationship with his socks, they are like an extension of his personality - loud and annoying! It is the next bit that fascinates me, why would anyone put their tie on before their shirt? I was still pondering that as he put his trousers on, and I reminded him to fasten his zip. He put things right but then he went on to explain that he would never go out with his zip undone because when he stands on the pavement next to the drive he always checks that 'all is secure'. It is true, I have told him off for doing it many times, and he always stands on exactly the same spot to do it. Why would anyone do that in public, when it could be checked in private before leaving the house!

Trouser Trouble

It is a strange life, when Robbie is at home I want to send him back to work and when he is going back to work I want to keep him at home. He has been challenging at times over Christmas, but I wish he had a bit longer at home. On Christmas Day he was still trotting around in his PJ's when my mum, stepfather and brother arrived at lunchtime, a fairly alarming sight especially when you are not expecting it. He eventually got dressed in his cords and his 'Ho, Ho, Homer' T shirt (that slogan proved too tempting for the kids!) but more shocks were in store – his trousers fell down when he was doing the washing up! I thought that was the end of the trouser trouble, but I nearly crashed the car on Tuesday when we were taking my Mum and step father shopping and out of the silence he suddenly announced that he was not wearing underwear! I sincerely hoped he was joking because he was wearing the same pair of cords that had fallen down on Christmas Day, and it was 'geriatric' day at Morrisons - he could have caused mass hysteria! I really don't know what triggers him to speak his thoughts sometimes, but I really wish he wouldn't, I have far too many grey hairs already!

It Could Only Happen to Robbie

There are some things that only seem to happen to Robbie. When I got home last night I found Robbie sitting in his PJ's with one trouser leg rolled up. It crossed my mind that he could have joined the Masons, but it seemed an unlikely explanation (unless they have a railway section) so I had to find a more obvious reason for the new style. As I took a closer look at his leg I saw that it was badly cut in a series of scratches that ran up and around his leg. According to him he was innocently walking home when a rose jumped out and grabbed his leg. Apparently he'd had quite a struggle to free himself! I hope he hasn't ripped yet another pair of trousers, it is bad enough when he falls over and writes off his trousers without finding new ways to destroy them. His leg is hurting him quit a lot, I really hope it will not turn septic.

Watching the World Go By

You know when you see cartoon characters with steam coming out of their ears - I know exactly how they feel! Robbie and I were going to the garage to check the tyres and to do all those routine car jobs last night, so I arranged to drop Laura at work and then pick Robbie up from the station. Shortly before I was due to leave the house he rang to say that the line was blocked because a train had failed. He said not to worry because he would only be 35 minutes late. I had to leave as planned in order to get Laura to work on time, so I found myself sitting in the station car park watching the world go by. Whoever it was that coined the phrase 'the sights you see when you haven't got your gun' was probably sitting in the car park at Northampton when that thought struck them. There was enough raw material to keep Trinny and Susannah fully occupied for years! I began to wonder if there is a national shortage of mirrors? Why do men wear brown shoes with black suits? it looks horrible. I saw a so many people with pinstriped suits, striped shirts and patterned ties, have they never heard that 'less is more' or are they just taking revenge on the world? How difficult is it to buy a pair of trousers that actually fits? There seems to be an epidemic of 'ankle bashers' surely people must notice that their trousers are at half mast, it makes them look as if they have escaped from an institution. I know old men have a tendency to pull their trousers up to fasten under their chin, but ankle basher syndrome seems to affect a wide variety of people.

I watched groups of passengers spilling out onto the station, looking hopefully for Robbie among the crowd. He wasn't there. A series of texts detailed his very slow progress, each text ended with the word 'farce' in capital letters. I think it's a man thing, he does something similar when he is loosing an argument, he underlines every statement with the word 'fact'. By the time he finally arrived it was too late to mess around with the car, we had to get home in time to rescue the chicken casserole. Robbie wanted to talk about every detail of his journey and to explain the exact cause of the delay. I wanted to think about anything other than trains, surely I had endured enough for one night, he didn't take the hint and in the end he was faced with a stark choice - shut up about trains or walk home!

Robbie seems to have taken on some 'Hulk' like tendencies. On Monday he tore his shirt on the arm near the elbow, yesterday he tore a second shirt in exactly the same place. I suggested that he should wear that horrible multi coloured striped shirt today, I wouldn't be too bothered if he ripped that one. I suspect this may be a cunning plan to justify more new shirts, but I think he still has more than enough shirts to see him through the next few months!

Musings on Feet and Fashion 17.01.08

On Tuesday Robbie was limping when he got home, when I mentioned it he claimed that he had probably tied his new boots too tight that morning! I know when I am having the wool pulled over my eyes, but I decided to indulge him, if he really wanted to believe that tight shoe laces were the cause of his predicament. As always Robbie abandoned his clothes in favour of PJ's within a couple of minutes of getting home and it became clear that the limp (and the pain) remained even when he was plodding around in bare feet, and he grudgingly admitted that it had nothing to do with his new boots. By yesterday the pain and the difficulty in walking had increased and his frustration with the situation was reaching boiling point. He did a fair bit of walking in the course of his trip to and from Cardiff and by the time he got home at 8pm he was really struggling; his leg is being just as troublesome this morning. I cant help worrying about him, but hopefully he will get his hospital tests soon, once they understand what the problem I hope they will be able to sort him out. We can't have him walking like Spotty Dog for the rest of his life!

I'm not sure if Robbie's painful leg is affecting his brain, but he sent me the most bizarre text when he was heading home yesterday. It read, "I had a random conversation with myself about people who wear turn-ups and their associated footwear, today. It was rather funny!" He was a bit put out because I didn't reply, but how do you answer that, I was speechless. I may be a mine of useless information but my knowledge of the trouser turn-up is very limited, I am aware that they first became fashionable around 1912 and I think turn-ups and pockets in new garments were banned in the second world war, beyond that I pay very little attention to them. I do tend to notice men's footwear and socks, it is amazing how many people wear odd socks or socks that scream out at you because they clash with their trousers and their shoes.

Robbie's text reminded me of an embarrassing episode years ago when I worked in Plymouth. I had to take a lady to the dentist, she had spent a number of years in a mental hospital and her social skills were somewhat lacking. We sat quietly in the waiting room and there was a middle aged man in a suit sitting opposite reading a newspaper. Suddenly she leaned forward, tapped him on the knee and said, "oh, I do like your socks". The poor man was horrified, but shortly afterwards he was rescued when the dentist called him in.