No, not you, long-suffering readers of this shallow and frivolous mind blog, but this suit. Here's the story. Back in the far-off, halcyon days of London in the early mid '90s I found myself in a strange in between kind of space, neither here nor there, sort of thing.
Then Cardinal Hume, may he rest in peace, stepped in with a pastoral placement which involved working as a PA for an exalted personage. This meant getting a couple of suits from a famous tailoring street beginning with S and ending in e. So I went with a made-to-measure option at one of the shops on the fabled row of tailors.
Great result and on expenses to boot. Flash forward to today. After many, many years of loyal and faithful service the wretched suits decided they wouldn't fit anymore. You'll note, ahem, that a bad workman blames his tools but, this in mind, I gave the miserable offenders another go this morning and...
They fit. Whoa, it seems serious Lenten fasting has both spiritual and practical benefits, almost as though the two go hand in hand. In the meanwhile, I file this exciting tale of sartorial splendour under "anything else I care to think of."
Cheers,
LSP
