Post 384: “Suits you sir” — yes, I think it does.
Oh my, how did The Fast Show create such fantastic skits and memorable one-liners? “Suits you sir” being one of them.
I skipped telling you much about the Moss shop shopping trip didn’t I, it was only for a suit for the weddings coming up so nothing important. That’s a joke by the way, just in case the nephew is reading this, I know his mum will be.
This long awaited wedding is the first family wedding locally and we are excited, I’m excited too, hence wanting to look swish — at least, I’ll try.
I was told by one particular reader yesterday, that it was remiss that I didn’t mention more about the suit, so it needed clarifying a little.
So I will — but not before I tell you about my shoulder issues.
It’s my back really, but not at the bottom like last week — oh no — it’s just behind the shoulder blade on the right. Yep, the one that had the op two weeks ago.
The problem might be a residual pain from the muscles and ligaments that were disturbed three days after the op while doing a great job of cleaning the car. The Volvo. Olive.
Can it possibly still be that? Well I don’t think so, but I’m told that pains can manifest well after the heavy-duty workout were sustained by waxing Olive’s roof and flanks and are telling me to behave better and take heed of the prescribed physio techniques I’ve bookmarked online.
The real problem is that because of some of the pain I’m getting, as explained earlier, I’ve not got the confidence to get cracking with the exercises.
I should also admit to being unable to sleep much during the night, but having no problems nodding off in the lounge chair where I might be watching The Count of Monte Cristo or reading a book — that I’ve been given today.
Which reminds me about the guests today — with all the books.
“Why did you say yes to more books, for heaven’s sake?” says my Darling as the two big shopping bags full of books are deposited on the sofa chair, making it awkward for her to sit down now — never mind the guests. Oops!
However, my surrogate mother and her partner found enough space to chill, and so we chatted a while. Thanks entirely to the books.
The good news (I suppose) was the fact that our lovely guests, who brought gifts in the shape of the whole Lake District series by Rebecca Tope, only had twenty minutes to stay before they had to be off to a local crib tournament.
I think jousting has been banned in our county, but sometimes it sounds like it could be brought back for some of the combative competitors I could suggest, if you know what I mean.
While on the subject of jousting, the suggested film The Last Duel was excellent and at the end gory — but necessarily so.
Back to our guests; before I could blink, they were getting up and heading for the door and off to their combative card games they love so much, which sadly kept the conversation, I’d been having with him, mercifully short as my Darling would point out quite regularly. (How very rude!)
So I was suddenly on my own because my Darling, who had a prior arrangement with her bestie, was off to get her nails polished. Bye bye guests, bye bye darling…
I was left to scoot in and around my soon to be sold (hopefully) Volvo, Olive, looking for extra “junk” and other paraphernalia in side pockets and a tiny shelf under the dashboard.
I should have done this before the photos were taken yesterday. Damn.
I found three pocket-sized tissue packs, as you do, and the garage door and front door keys — great, a spare for the front door is always welcome.
Note: I didn’t hear back from the auction house nor the cameraman, so there’s been no advancement on the sale of Olive today.
Which makes me wonder whether the form for “SERIOUS ILL HEALTH” (sorry about the capitals — I’M NOT SHOUTING, I PROMISE YOU! Ha ha) has disappeared too. Do you remember?
It’s been two weeks since I handed the forms to the receptionist over the counter at the doctors surgery but I’ve still heard nothing back.
I rang and eventually got through to one of the girls, who told me there’s nothing showing on my profile. Bye. — click — and that was that.
I wasn’t really finished with that call, so I decided to ask more officially on Anima for a giddy-up, which I did.
The reply came quickly…
“We are looking into this request for you and will be in contact asap.”
That’s what they said last week. Grrrrrr.
I was then on the prowl for information about finances, I decided to ask my bank (or someone or something at my bank) via text ‘when my ISA matures’ because apparently it’s a fixed-rate ISA and you can’t withdraw any money from it. Gulp! You can only shut it down completely, loosing any or all the interest for the last umpteen months…
“Why?” I texted back.
I should have a cash ISA to allow three or four withdrawals during its term. But if I wanted to withdraw some money I’d apparently need my late mother and Father Christmas to sign with me, otherwise there’ll be no money for me.
Bugger hell, I thought. It’s locked in for sure!
Damn it, darn it, bugger hell.
I didn’t need any money anyway. Tut tut.
Anyway, back at the ranch — or the Moss shop — and no, I didn’t find any moss anywhere before you ask, nor do they sell moss.
How strange?
We were already late for the 11:30am appointment and yes, the traffic was crazy, but the blue badge places were just not available. Anyway, moving in o the shopping — the able assistant was very able and had four suits ready for me: two blue and two summery lighter-coloured ones for me to narrow down my choices.
The last suit I bought was for our eldest’s wedding in Gretna Green (Scotland) and was blue, so I suggested blue might be the best solution to the able Moss assistant, albeit reluctantly. I didn’t want to preordain the colour before we started. But after trying (and failing) with the summer collection we moved on to the blues, and a lovely checked cloth did catch my eye.
But this is where I should have had slip-ons on. Oh my, the brown lace-up boot-type shoes I was wearing are really comfy but a flipping nightmare to get off and on, on and off, in a tiny changing room. Duly noted for next time.
You’ve probably already guessed it though, because I ended up putting on the lightly checked three-piece and not only did it fit perfectly, I started smiling without noticing. But my Darling and the able assistant did.
I strutted around and everyone started smiling. I didn’t need to try on anything else, I was done.
It was only later, when I had the bill for the suit, leather belt, shirt and silk knitted tie totted up, that I stopped smiling (only joking).
The carry-bag was another £8, but everything was tidied away beautifully in it so that made sense, and we strode off happily. The suit was found… just the shoes. Ha ha.
As we walked into the first shoe shop along from Moss I noticed it was mainly unmanly. But a cheerful tall male assistant, who looked a similar age to me, happily asked if I needed any help.
I said my usual line about finding a size 12 that fitted because they are never wide enough, and he dutifully flew off upstairs saying something like, “I’ve got just the thing.”
He was back quickly with one box. Which was brave, I thought to myself.
Unbelievably, the shoes were perfect in colour and size and, after a couple of walks around the shop without tripping and spilling blood, I paid up and left the shop for home all in double-quick time.
I was knackered but happy with the shopping experience and rested for the rest of the day in front of the TV, holding hands as per usual with my Darling. Occasionally smiling at each other for no apparent reason.
And now the day dawns.
Good morning
Have a cracking Friday
Take care
