With a stay at a high-end
hotel imminent I high-tailed it to a not-so-high-end clothing retailer to buy a
smart pair of trousers (so as not to detract from my wife’s haute couture at
dinner) and took a pair of my usual ‘34 short’ into the fitting room to try on,
only to find the bottoms of the trouser legs flapping round my ankles when I
stood and shooting up my calves when I sat; I tried again with a ’34 regular’ and
found them perfect, so either my legs have had a long-delayed growth spurt or,
more likely, my waist has moved north as my stomach has moved south.
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