Trouser Problems and a Bad Hand of Cards

Yesterday I had a problem in the trouser department. Now this is not uncommon in gentlemen of a certain age but before, dear reader, you leap to the predictable conclusion this was not one of "those" problems.

On my last foray into the big city I purchased a pair of corduroy trousers from Messrs Marks & Spencer. Not the most trendy of emporiums but I am long past being "with it". Nowadays I am built more for comfort than speed and my wardrobe reflects this.  One of the advantages of Marks & Sparks is that if you know your size you can bypass the perils of the changing room. I have often discovered that the flimsy curtain provided in place of a door is not quite ample enough to cover the opening. Add to that the embarrassment of bursting through the said curtain, having lost one's balance with one leg in the trousers and one leg out and it is a situation I prefer to avoid. It has never quite happened to me but I have had several near misses. I have more consideration for my fellow men than to subject them to the sight of a hopping Kojak in overcoat and underwear.

Having digressed once again I shall return to the nub of the matter. I was dismayed to find that the waistline measurement which had served me so well in the past no longer seemed adequate. I do not wish to cast aspersions in the direction of M&S but it may be that in these times of economic depression they have been forced into a less generous system of measuring. In order to exchange the meanly tailored garment another excursion into the metropolis of Preston was called for and I was also able to finally divest myself of a large bag of Christmas cards. For many years the local Post Office has kindly offered a collecting point for Christmas cards and so on Tuesday I laboured there with a large bag only to find that they had ceased this service because of collection problems in previous years. Naturally this was the day when my car was being serviced so having trudged there in the rain I had to trudge back with the damned things. Fortuitously on the way back from the big city I happened to call into the local supermarket and found to my delight that Messrs Morrisons also offered a collecting point for the aforesaid cards so they no longer take up space in the now rather tidy cupboard under the stairs. One more clear out there and there will be room for Harry Potter and owl. 

One might ask why I do not simply recycle them. Alas, once more Fates fickle Yuletide finger has dealt me yet another bad hand of cards. The Oberbinfuhrer, in one of his diktats has commanded "No cards!" Apparently he doesn't like glitter...