Sharp dressed man...

I asked the husband on Saturday night whether he was going out on his bike again on Sunday morning. 

'No.  I'm going shopping for clothes'..... 

Now the husband shops for clothes on a regular basis (every two years without fail) so it's a big event in our house.  But for the last eight years, he has not been allowed to go alone as he can't be trusted to:

1. Buy the right size (He is no longer the svelte medium of yesteryear but is in denial...)
2. Buy age-appropriate clothing (No 3/4 length trousers, heavily worded t-shirts, anything sparkly)
3. Be nice to the store staff (Patience is not his forte)
4. Come home with enough purchases (One bag does not a shopper make)

So it was a foregone conclusion that I would go with him, much to his dismay.  The shopping bonanza started in the usual way with a stiff coffee and twenty questions from me as to what his planned purchases were to be.  The best I could get out of him was 'shorts' and 'some shoes like son number 2 has'. The shoes he was referring to are a size 13 black velvet winkle picker.  The husband had to borrow these last week, and I'm still pondering how they managed to stay on his size 9 feet.  I'd imagined some screwed up newspaper in the pointy bit...

Coffee drunk, we headed off towards House of Fraser. but his attention was diverted by a new store.

'Oh look, it's a new gadget shop....let's go and have a look'.
'No.  We're doing clothes today...'
'Oh go on.  We could buy stuff for the grandchildren'.
'We haven't got any grandchildren, nor are we likely to the way our lot are going'.
'But when we do, we may not have the money to buy stuff like that.  Let's buy it now'.
'We won't have any money because we would have spent it all twenty years earlier on gadgets which we put away, then forgot about.  Keep walking sunshine...'

I left him in the relative safety of House of Fraser and went and did my own shopping, returning an hour later expecting him to be having a lie down in the changing rooms having maxed out the debit card, but he was still in the changing room, whipping things on and off with gay abandon. Coming out with a shirt on (a good choice actually) I said..

'That's a little tight.  Shall I get you the next size up?'
'I think it's fine...I'll go on a diet'.
'Are you breathing in?'
'Are you sure?'

Husband breathes out, shirt gapes, button pops, I get bigger sizes...

Overall it was quite a successful shopping trip.  Two shirts, three t-shirts, a jacket and a pair of shoes.

Not sure what he ended up with.....


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