Suits me fine

On the way back from the Post Office, having signed for a registered letter, I was both laughing and crying. Not, I assure you a freakish medical condition nor an audition piece for 'embarassing middle aged bodies' but an animalistic response to a thing of pure joy. I am well down in the best dressed league table for my profession, if indeed there is such a thing, but my fake see through Jaeger trousers, crusty shirt underarms and grubby collar are a badge of honour. They shout out, here's a man who takes care not in his appearance but in his duty of care in seeking out those defects in a building could cause anxiety, damage or injury if not relentlessly pursued through the gas cupboards, underfloor voids and loft spaces of the UK housing stock. Why not wear overalls? Well, a valid question but have you seen how unstylish they are, a cross between Hannibal Lecter, an inmate of Guantanimo Bay and Pa Walton. Accordingly, I can only afford to run one good suit at a time, or part suit or no suit at all. My last purchase in the dark two-piece line was for my Fathers funeral and I will keep that one for best or auspicious occasions, such as the Oscars, Best Man duties or for when I have to step into Matthew MacConnaghey's role in adverts. I was juggling a few bits of income to see if a suit could be sourced but just when there is enough to buy the trousers something always comes along to whisk away the jacket budget. This is where God shows his hand. I did not actually offer up a prayer for a suit but I think I may have given an impression of being needy and what happens- I win the National  August monthly prize from Slaters Menswear of £100 in vouchers. Amazing, a small miracle but a miracle nonetheless. Look out you well dressed professionals , I am working my way up to the heady heights of mid table mediocrity and it feels really good, at least a wool/polyester mix.