Who took in my trousers?

Why...

Is getting dressed in normal clothes again proving so hard?

As we emerge blinking into the post COVID light (or Putin’s nuclear Armageddon) it is time to put away elasticised tracksuits, have a shave and put on shoes not sneakers.

It was in fact a relief to trim my beard as I was starting to look like Grizzly Adams. Tying up shoelaces took a bit of practice but I got there. Knotting my first tie in two and a half years was a challenge. I also tried to tie a bow tie. The result looked like a drunken moth.

Trousers were something else. When did the tailor fairies come into my house and take all my trousers in? I had to shoehorn myself into my smart trousers recently. If I sneezed my fly zipper would have come undone.

This is all a bit of a puzzle as I thought during lockdown that the times we weren’t opening and closing the fridge, expecting each time for it to have different content, people were superglued to their Pelaton machine, doing a one legged pigeon pose or just having sex. It appears this is as fictional as the Downing Street parties. Someone has inserted a Space hopper into me.

...and another thing

The question I have here is Quo Vadis, because I suspect after lock down we have had enough of exercising like mindless automatons and just want to go enjoy life. I find the idea of more exercise as appealing as a bus driver’s sock… but my wife has made it plain if I cannot get into my knickers and trousers I’m not getting into hers.

...and another thing

So as I sit here punching out this blog, Torquemada, my trainer is waiting for me. Sadly at what he costs per session I had better get a move on so like me, this blog is going on a diet and shorter than normal.

Stay safe.

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