24 August 2015

ObserVation: Fashion Sense

usie Jay asked in the post ObserVation: Getting ready to go out about how my wife reacted to the change in my attitude, from in the past showing no interest at all, to now actively helping her choose what to wear while getting ready to go out. 

 [Ed: Half way through writing a reply as a comment, Madam realised that it was going to be a little long and so ended up as a post instead.]

Well in general quite positive. 
She is happy that we have now another aspect of bonding in our relationship. 
This change in attitude is one of the positive things I attribute to Abigale’s appearance on the scene. Now controlling the overdone external 'negative attitude' as barrier to not having to talk about female related things and possibly give the game away. 

Our ‘getting dressed dialogue’ has now overflowed into when we watch the box together. We have in Germany a TV program called "Shopping Queen", where a top dress designer to a particular theme, gives five woman 500 Euros each and a 3 hour time limit to go shopping and at the end get a makeover. They can take a shopping companion to help out; they are driven around, filmed the whole time and reminded constantly of the time and money left, sometimes they are down to the last second and cent when finished. 
Five shopping sprees over five days, at the end of each day the shopper presents themselves to the rest of the group on the catwalk. Points are given in secret also from the dress designer. The one with the most points at the end of the week gets a money prize. On Sunday afternoon there is a collective repeat of the 5 episodes. 
Sometimes on we sit and watch, but only if no alternative is on. 
There is usually no alternate on.. 
Well actually in the past the wife would watch, while I would have my face buried in a notebook, tablet whatever, lost to the world. She would now and then try and start a dialogue going by asking / remarking about something that was going on. I would look up and say something like ‘sorry darling, what was that?’ She usually would give up in frustration after I repeated my standard answer a few times.

Now - and this in part is Abigales doing - I do not clam up or show total disinterest concerning what I use to think was a taboo for men. Now I give up my humble opinion when talking about ‘girl stuff’. Of course this ‘joining in’ didn’t just appear overnight. I went softly softly into this. Not really tactical, just subliminal, always trying to keep just under the surprise level of ‘Hey! What’s going on here?’ I see this as one of the ways to let Abigale dimly shine though my boy facade and anyway it’s fun! 
Well, on the TV shopping front it didn’t take that long to get into the swing of things. We both now give up our preferences and discuss what we would prefer the shopper to wear from what she has looked at / tried on and at the end if the makeover would match or not. 
Interestingly enough we usually have the same opinions and tastes. You know the situation, one would say something, the other looks astonished and remarks 
‘I was just about to say that!’ one then laughs/giggles together (yes giggles (not too girly my side)) and so on. We have been together over 40 years, it’s understandable that we rub off on each other, even in silence. 
Mrs.A is sometimes a little surprised to what detail I would go, when e.g. the eyebrow colour should be black and not brown with that particular eye shadow (I hold back on suggesting which product name and number would look better, that would be a right giveaway if I did!). 
We now have fun making jokes and rolling our eyes at the programs sometimes silly commentary and when some of the women have no idea how to dress themselves even with a friend tagging along. She is not surprised any more that I give up an opinion, has rather got used to it in fact and now asks actively what I think unless I get in first. 
The only thing during the program is I have to be constantly on my guard to think but not say ‘Oh! That’s nice, wouldn’t mind that, maybe in blue’ or at the other extreme 
‘I wouldn’t be seen dead in that!’ 
I almost put my foot in it once, literally. The woman was trying on shoes to go with the dress she have an eye on. Mrs.A remarked “that’s a nice pair, they would go really well with my new summer dress”. I almost blurted out ‘Yes they would, I have a pair just like that in the cellar, shame they won’t fit you.’ 

[Ed: The Mrs wears a size 2-3UK. Madam a 9.]

With browsing my wife’s woman’s catalogues, scouring the online shops for clothes and shoes in my size, reading up on all manner of do’s and don’ts and watching umpteen YouTube videos with tips and tricks, I now think - I hope – I have developed a little ‘fashion sense’ in and to female attire and accessories (my boy fashion sense, if it exists, is still on the starting line).

These days I don’t restrict myself to what I like to see on my wife and the women in our circle of friends, but also to give up a spontaneous opinion when looking at someone passing on the street or a remark about someone’s appearance when they appear on the box. 
Here two recent examples. 
I had to go to the DIY store to buy some stick-on hooks for the bathroom. As I was waiting in line to pay, I saw that the cashier had long blue nails with all manner of art work, each nail slightly different. I was fascinated. After paying and just before leaving, I complimented her on the lovely nails. To begin with, I think she was a little taken back at my remark as it coming from a man. But then came a big smile and a warm ‘thank you!’. I won’t say I made her day, but I could see she was quite chuffed that I had said something. 
And.
Some time ago we were watching ‘Let’s Dance’, one of the girls had a gorgeous mint dress on with all the trimmings. My heart beat faster. I said Wow! What a lovely dress and the colour! 
The wife agreed and we discussed it in detail and then moved on to the other dress creations swirling around the dance floor. 
What I thought at the time was ‘Wow! I really do need this dress to go with my new heels!’ (see picture). 

Not all people have an eye for mode and a lot of it is recycled hype anyway, but most people have some sort of dress sense. I have been told not only from my wife but also friends (girls), that I seem to have more sense / taste when it comes to clothing the female form than to my own male clothing conventions. 
I must say I fully agree and it’s a darn sight more fun to!

14 August 2015

Twilight Zone – Stockings V (finial)

fter a time my hair started to reappear (on my legs that is), and I decided it was time to start shaving and keep them at bay. I went on the search for new shaving equipment as I couldn’t see myself regularly ‘Veet-ing’ in the months to come. Using Veet cream to remove them the first time was a good idea, now I needed to wield an appropriate combat blade. My normal razor, that I use occasionally to remove the small number of hairs that on my face dare to push spontaneously through to the light of day, would not cope with the revengeful hoard of hair that my legs brought fourth. 
I had to choose, it was either a razor for men or women. The girl in me got the upper hand and I went for Gillette’s 5 blade Venus Embrace Sensitive starter pack and Satin Care shaving cream. The idea was to convince Mrs.A, as she was now thinking again about shaving instead of seasonal Veet-ing, that we could use the same make of blades. As she didn’t say directly ‘no’, I took it as a ‘yes’ and added for her a Gillette Venus und Olaz starter pack to the Amazon basket. I must say I never thought that we would both end up shaving our legs, but we are.

[Ed: you never thought that we would end up varnishing your nails together either.]

True.

After the package arrived, together we checked what we had and how to use them. As she could never find the right shaving cream in the past she was quite taken back by what I had ordered for her with the ‘build in’ shaving gel. Of course it was not going to be rocket science, but Mrs.A is a stickler for reading instructions. So every text she could find in and on the packaging was read through aloud at least twice. I let her ‘experiment’ first to see how she would fair. She came back happy with how easy it was and with not having to lather up beforehand. 
On this high note I too went through the motions in the shower. Not that easy trying to get to all parts of a leg while standing on the other. It was well worth the effect, as they were smooth again. After the shave, Mrs.A gave me some moisturising cream to apply. I would never had thought of it on my own, even though I realised that the skin was quite sensitive and tingled some what for the rest of the day. I have now a routine of shaving every two weeks. If I know I will have the chance to dress, I unobtrusively do an extra session. 

As I’m on about shaving, I’ll give a little background to the experience of it or shall we say the lack of it when growing up.

[Ed: Here we go again, you and your anecdotes! This is why it’s taking so long!]

I promise this is the last part. Honest, let all my stockings ladder if it isn’t.

[Ed: I’ll believe it when I see read it, okay carry on..]

At school when hair started to appear on the faces of my male class mates they would start to talk about nothing else. Going on about how often they ‘had’ to shave, comparing the location of growth, and before leaving school, the shade of their four o’clock shadows. It was like a competition, the more hair the more bragging. I was just the opposite; to find any hair on my face apart from eyebrows you needed a magnifying glass and a lot of imagination. Nothing in sight for many years it turned out. 
At the time I was glad I didn’t have to shave. I saw my father every day struggling with a cutthroat or hand razor and leaving the house with the classic bits of tissue paper stuck to his neck and face. 
No thank you! 
I didn’t even look at his razor if I could help it, on the off chance it woke up the gene for facial hair and then all hell would have been let loose on the face front. I didn’t feel left out in this ‘hairy phase’ and I wasn’t harassed at school for my hairlessness, but for hanging out more with the girls than the boys. About a year later I could hear among my ‘shaving friends’ that it was not at the top of the list of things they wanted to do before leaving home in the morning, I just smiled. Well, years later that gene did wake up, but that’s another story in a future post. 

It was time for a new pair of stockings as back up. We can get a prescription every 6 months for a new pair, but one still has to pay 25€ towards the costs. They usually go for about 100€s in shops and about 70-80€ in the Net depending on make. I started to look around as I needed a pair to go under my business suit. 
No, not for a woman’s business suit,
although I had my eye on a grey pencil skirt to go with my mint silk blouse, strappy sandals and nail vanish…...
[Ed: hey! stop day dreaming and get moving.]
Yes .. err .. sure, maybe one day (sigh). I had the problem that the legs of my trousers had the tendency to ride up when sitting and expose my ankles and a little bit more leg than they should. With the standard compression stocking colour, it was obvious what I had on. Usually I have no problem with this, but it’s not always appropriate when a customer gets to see them and it becomes a small talk topic in the coffee break! I decided this time to go for a pair in black, which would give the illusion I had normal black socks on. 

Well it seems I had little choice with colours, to my surprise the only black ones I found in my compression strength (23-32 mmHg, CCL2) was again from Jobst in their ultra-sheer selection. But first I need a new prescription and as I had to go to my internist for a check-up I asked if he would give me one, no problem. I went back to the same sanitation house as last time to order them and was looking forward to see how the shop assistant will react to my order. 
It went something like this:
Morning!” 
Good morning!” 
I’m here about a new pair of compression stockings.” 
Ok, do you have a prescription?” 
Yes”. I handed it over. 
Sorry but I have a problem with this.” 
Oh! In what way?” 
The wording is not quite correct. We will have difficulty getting reimbursement with the medical insurance company if the text is not exactly how they want it.” 
Oh!” I said. 
Here, this is the exact text that has to be used.”
She scribbled it down and handed me the slip of paper. 
Sorry about that.” 
With a blank look I stared at it a while comparing it to the text on the prescription. 
Ok, can’t be helped, I’ll be back.” and left. 

Forty five minutes later and a different person behind the counter. 

Morning!” 
Good morning!” 
I’m here about a new pair of compression stockings.” 
Ok, do you have a prescription?” 
Yes”. I handed it over. 
Is the text correct now?” I enquired. 
?.. Yes quite all right, why do you ask?” 
Well I was here a short while ago and the prescription wording was not 100% correct.” 
Yes can happen, I see your internist gave you this not your phlebologist.” 
Yes, I told him what I needed.” 
That explains it. He is not used to writing prescriptions of this kind.” 
Looks like it, understandable I suppose.” 
Right, have you been here before?” 
Yes, about an hour ago.” 
?... No, I mean have you had stockings from us in the past?"
Sorry, yes I have.” 
Then I’ll check your records.” 
 She wandered off. 

In the mean time I studied the advertisements in the shop and my focus fell on the Jobst ultra-sheer ad displayed on the front of the counter. Ah navy blue! That would go with jeans quite well and those dark blue heels I saw.. 

She wandered back. 
Ok then, same again?” 
No, I have written down what I would like this time.” 

I had copied down the cryptic contents of the faded label from the original Jobst stockings. At the time I had no idea what half of the parameters meant. I only left out what I recognised - the washing symbols. 

I handed her the note. 
She studied it, a little longer than I thought necessary. 
She looked up with a mixture of surprise and slight disbelief. 
Ultra-sheer!?” 
Yes.” Pause. 
But that’s a … well a … woman’s stocking!” 
If you say so.. and?” 
Before she could think up a reply, I thought it was best to put her out of what looked like for her a potential embarrassing situation, and started to explain why I wanted this particular brand. 
Of course I didn’t go into the girly reasons (glance, chic, sexy [Ed: sexy?]). I just kept to the ‘hard’ facts considering the material and physical properties. I explained they were easier to put on than the others, even with the same mmHg strength and they were recommended by my gynaecologist .. 
(I paused a little to see if she was paying attention before I followed with ‘friend’ – the widening of her eyes said she was) 
.. and that I had the extended choice in colour. 
Pause. 
Colour?” 
Yes, I want them in black.” 
Black!?” came the echo. 
Yes black, for business.” 
 I think if there had been a chair behind her she would have sat down. 
Business?” that echo again. 

I was just about to say ‘Yes, business’, though better of it and told her about meetings and trousers riding up due to static sticking and that the sheer form allowed the trouser legs to slide down and sit better etc. 
If she bought all this I’m not sure, but she was getting into the swing of things and nodded now and then. With the look of relief that started to appear on her face I think she was seeing a rational behind it all and not what she first thought - whatever that was.
Well after the ‘pep’ talk, the order was made and as I was about to leave, I thought I would give her something to think about after I was gone. I remarked on the advertisement on the front of the counter (see right). I mentioned that sticking on stockings was not that ideal even with shaving and I was thinking of trying pantyhose next time and in the navy blue to go with my jeans (I didn’t mention the heels). 
Without waiting for any response I just turned and headed for the door. 
I thought I heard the scraping of a chair on the floor behind me. 
I could have been mistaken.

A week later I went back to collect them. Again another assistant behind the counter, funny that, as the place didn’t have that many staff. The black stockings worked well with my work clothes (no I don’t go to work like this, just wanted to show you the stocking tops). I have the routine of donning stockings early in the morning and removing them after getting home. I should keep them on until I go to bed, but that’s asking a little too much, I am just glad I’m compliant over the day. I should also have the stockings on at the weekends. 
 
At home I’m always in shorts and bare feet, summer and winter. Before the stockings became necessary no problem. Now it’s different, I still try to keep to shorts and be compliant with wearing the stockings but then I get remarks from Mrs.A. She can’t get used to seeing me ‘exposed’ in them, especially the black ones. The picture left is not a good one but one gets the idea. If I would walk around the house as in the picture above, I would get more than just a weird look.
Of course she knows why I wear them but she says they are too much like leggings and also reminds her of those of her mothers and that I look just too weird in general in them. The consequence is I only put them on in combination with trousers when we go for a walk, shopping or visiting family and friends. 

As an alternative to stockings, I started to look around for pantyhose which had at least a support function. I could not blatantly go off and buy normal hose (Abi has an extensive stash in the cellar under raps, but that doesn't count), I just would not have an excuse for wearing them.  
But if they were ‘support’ hose I had the chance she would not start asking questions. I found some 140 den 18-22 mmHg CCL1, one level below what I ‘should’ wear, almost normal compared to what I have. My rational for Mrs.A was having a relief from wearing my heavy duty and still having support. I could see she was a little concerned with this slacking off variation, but I held to my ‘theory’ and ordered in graphite and nude, one had more colour variations with lesser den. Also my legs didn’t look that bad in them combined with a dress and heels. 

I try as far as possible to keep the hose out of sight and only put them on when it is unlikely Mrs.A would enter the room and ‘catch’ me. I must say it does look and feel a little bit girly when putting them on and removing them, tug of war or not. The feeling is quite nice, its tight and supportive, the material is smooth and it keeps my tummy in as well. I also have the feeling I can walk better in them than without.
When I’m wearing them I have to tighten my trouser belt an extra 2 notches. One time I forgot to do this and on leaving the house my trousers just fell frictionless from me to the ground. As I was ‘encased’ in nylon I didn’t realise what had happened until I stepped forward tripped and nearly fell flat on my face! I’m just glad none of the neighbours as well as the wife saw me. 
I only have them ‘out in the open’ on wash day, and hang them up in the bathroom to dry where she can’t really miss them. But this seems to be ok. Well, I haven’t heard any remarks to date. As the hose is more delicate than my stockings I have to make sure I don’t ruin them. The picture on the left shows low compression hose with a pattern. I’m partial to patterns. Would love to have these, but I think I would have problems if I wore them, compression or not. 
As I mentioned the rubber gloves are quite effective. I’ve had them some time now and they are pretty weather beaten. It’s interesting that the thumbs were the first to tear and fall off. They now look simular to a pair of leather gloves I have for kite flying, they have the thumb and the index finger missing so that one can de-knot the kite’s strings with ones fingers and still have grip without burning oneself through friction. Holes are now appearing in the fingers and the material is getting thin allowing the white colour is coming through (see picture). They are still effective but I will need a new pair soon. 

I went back to the shop 6 months later for a new pair of stockings. Again I had someone else serving me (where do they come from?). I said 'Yes' to the question 'same again' but took another colour - caramel. No funny looks, just routine. Will see what happens when I go and order the blue hose the next time around, if I get served at all that is.
I haven’t added any pictures of myself till now, being shy and for other reasons, but I though a picture of the latest compression stockings with a dress and heels wouldn’t be a miss. Just a snap shot from one of the rare occasions when Abigale is allowed to show herself, well as least to the camera. 

I hope my stocking story wasn’t that trying. 

I had never thought I would have had such a journey due to a health problem, especially with what one could construe as having girly connotations. If any of you have similar experiences please let me know, I would be interested. Also any info to any outlet here in Europe to the heavy duty garter belts mentioned last time would also be appreciated. 

Well that’s over.. for now.

[Ed: yes it was a long run. Nails next I me think.]

Yes, but I hope it won't be as long as this was.

[Ed: okay, to get into the swing of things and as you’re dyslectic I though this card would be appropriate.]

I am knot going two toll a rate this! Even if ewe r write!

[Ed: only joking, shall I put the kettle on for a cuppa?]

Oh yes do! And a rich tea bicky if you please. 
I can’t do anything until my nails dry anyway.

[Ed: Right, coming up.]

07 August 2015

Twilight Zone – Stockings IV

o I had looked at two from my stocking bucket list. Sticking of the stockings and using heavy duty garters / straps. With sticking I was left with either hairs being pulled out or removing them beforehand. I optioned for the latter, it would mean more routine but I hoped less pain. 
I talked to Mrs.A about the results of my search and discussed the possibilities. She was fully d├ęcor with my conclusions, shave and stick. She dismissed the garters by passing over then very quickly. I could see she was trying to suppress a smile. But she held it back, well until I had left the room that is. I think if I had mentioned that I wanted to give them a go she would have started laughing but with a quizzical look of ‘why when sticking will do?’ 
A day later after returning from work, I was greeted with a kiss and a tube of Veet and a note with a scribbled link to WikiHow on applying and removing. I remarked that I thought I would be shaving them off. The answer was along the lines: with that jungle you will need a machete and a week and this is quicker and not so bloody. She had a point. 
After reading the instructions I was a little hesitant with all this 24h test run in case of allergy, leaving it no longer than 3 minutes otherwise your leg or something else will fall off. Also keep it clear from the eyes and if any does get in, wash it out and look for a doctor if you cannot see anything, you know the kind of warnings all in font point 6 and hardly readable. 
Well I wasn’t going to wait 24 hours to see if I came out in a rash and anyway I realised I was working towards something I had always want to do! So it was strip and apply, well strip was easy, the apply was not. It was like priming a bathroom wall with cement before sticking tiles up! Really hard work and as I never had to smear my legs in this way, a right contortion act as well! I was just over half way through one leg trying to make sure I covered everything evenly when the 3 minutes were up! I kept at it until the leg was finished. I waited a little longer and then started to scrape the goo off. I must say not the sweetest of smells and what a mess. And girls do this regularly, wow! I then rinsed and did the other leg. 
 
I sat down and as I looked at my shiny legs ran my fingers up and down them. There I was for the first time with hairless legs! Although as a kid I had hardly any hair on them, they were usually grimy not shiny! I was fascinated with the smoothness, it was so unusual, I knew it would take some time to get used to, but I also I realised that I never wanted to go back. The girl in me was clapping her hands and jumping about with joy knowing that in future, on the rare chances she gets to wear stockings and pantyhose, it will be without hairs getting in the way sensory as well as optically. The boy in me was only hoping this was going to help towards the stockings staying up. 
Every few minutes throughout the procedure I was being asked from downstairs if everything was ok. I shouted back that I was still alive. After a call “aren’t you finished yet?” I realised I had spent over half an hour doing my legs and admiring the results! I padded myself dry and donned a pair of shorts and went down for inspection. She checked everything with her critical eye, I had the feeling I was on parade. 
 
She asked me how it felt. My immediate reaction was, ah a trick question! But then I realised she was genuinely interested. I tried to stay nonchalant about it and just in case took on an ‘I suppose it must be’ attitude. I remarked it was ‘ok’ but a weird feeling. She just nodded. Out of habit (school teacher) when the inspection was over, I was given a B+. She took off points for missing a few hairs on the back of my legs. 
 
On retiring to bed, I had the new sensation of the bedclothes caressing my legs. The next morning getting ready to leave for work, with every movement I was aware of my legs. It was chilly outside and on the way to the car I realised that my legs were dam cold! I’m not usually sensitive to lower temperatures, it must my Celtic genes, but that morning I started to freeze, I really felt it in my legs. I had no idea that hair could be such a good insulation material! 
With this hairlessness, I decided to try commercial stockings again, not those home brew contraptions I was subjected to last time. I went back to my phlebologist told her my continuing sad story and the last escapade. She just rolled her eyes and handed me a new prescription this time for ‘proper’ stockings. Funny, she said nothing to the state of my legs after examining them. 
This time I went to the local sanitation house and asked for advice. They measured me up and gave me the appropriate model from another company not Jobst. They mentioned a contraption (see left) as helper but I thought I’m not that feeble just yet. 
What was really helpful was in showing me how to put them on using ‘special’ rubber gloves. Why nobody had informed me about them before I have no idea. I say special because they are not your common and garden washing up type, they are easier to put on and have knobs on the palms section that adhere better to the stocking material when pulling them up (see right), the ‘specialness’ had a price tag that went with them. They also stopped my nails wreaking havoc which was also a plus point. 
 
For sticking them down they sold me a roll-on. I went home with the feeling I was getting somewhere at last. The new stockings were a little tighter than my first pair. I had to use muscle to get them over my feet. Taking them off was also difficult, with having to pull away from the foot to finally remove them giving off a sound like a whip being cracked. Sticking them up was quite easy, it worked well, no slipping at all. On removing the stockings evenings I had to wash the excess glue off my legs otherwise everything would stick to them. I was recommended to wash the stockings daily, I think that’s was going a bit far. Up to now I do it every couple of days and only hand wash. I don’t trust myself with a washing machine, neither does Mrs.A. 
You have to make sure one uses enough glue, and the rubber band is clean otherwise a stocking could ‘release’ itself at an inopportune moment while walking. This happened one day at work on the way back from lunch. I recognised the signs of slipping stockings. I don’t usually carry with me a spare roll-on and I didn’t want to have to wait until I got home to stick again, so I went on a hunting trip. 
The problem was I was not sure where to go; there are no sanitation shops in the area that I knew of. What was on the high street was a hosiery shop. The shop window had stockings in all shapes, colours and patterns. When I’m out to lunch without any colleagues, I would slow down on going pass and look as unobtrusive as possible at what was on display. Some items were quite glamorous not your usual department store ware. I never saw any customers inside only someone sitting at a desk that I suspected was the owner. Now I had a half backed excuse to not only stop and look at the shop display, but to go in and ask if he had or knew where I could get some glue. I looked in through the shop door window to check if any customers were visible, all was clear so I entered. 

I have never seen such a collection of stockings and accessories on display in one place other than on Pinterest! It looked like a specialised shop for ‘specialised’ customers. I let Abigale take over for a moment and just stood there staring letting her fill our mental shopping basket. 
Then the owner approached and I heard a “Hello can I help, can I show you anything?” I turned, smiled and had that ‘I should be somewhere else’ feeling again but not strong enough to make a run for it. I complemented him on the displays and the range, saying I had never seen anything like it before. He thanked me, said he prided himself in catering for all tastes and asked if I was looking for anything in particular. 

I then explained in a somewhat embarrassed tone about my leg problem, having to wear stockings, one becoming unstuck, looking for glue and the off chance, as his shop had stockings – but of course not the same as mine, if he could help me in some way, this being my last hope. He took all this in, his face becoming sadder by the minute as I rambled on. When I had stopped, he placed a delicate hand lightly on my arm and said “Oh! You poor thing!” and went on that this was not really in his line. 
He started to ponder and as a help I mentioned that the glue was water soluble and something similar to that used by costume people in theatres for sticking hairpieces and moustaches etc. He lighten up somewhat, repeated the word ‘theatre’ and picked up the phone and started to dial. In between trying different numbers he mentioned he had friends in show business that may be able to help. I was going to thank him for taking the time and to say he didn’t have to go to so much trouble, but I could see he was in his element. 
I was not going to ask him what branch of ‘show business’ he meant, thinking about it I had a pretty good idea I knew anyway. I was plump in the middle of the cities LBGT Bermuda triangle. After about 4 to 5 conversations and no source for my glue, he put the phone down with a despondent look on his face. I must admit I was slightly relieved. If one of the calls had found a source, I imagined myself been sent off to the basement of a local bar to meet one of the girls/gurls who would have helped me stick the stocking back up. On the other hand it might have been interesting to get to ask what they use the glue for and ask to see. I know it wouldn’t be for falsies. I’ve tried, it doesn’t work. 

I was now sorry for him; he looked so unhappy that he couldn’t help. We talked a little and he mentioned the chemist, I must admit I never thought of it, it’s possible the fixation of getting to see the inside of the shop had suppressed the idea. As I was thanking him for his trouble, the shop door opened and two young elegantly dressed women entered. This was my cue to leave. I said I would let him know how I got on in the chemist. He nodded and seemed genuinely interested in the outcome. I checked and they did have one roll-on left and so I could stick and not wait until I was home. 

The next day on passing the hosiery shop I opened the door and as he was occupied with a customer I didn’t enter. I just said ‘hello’ gave him a smile and thumbs up about the glue. He looked pleased gave me a wave and a big smile. I waved back and left. I made a mental note that I would come back another time and let him show me some of the articles that where now in my shopping basket. 

In the office I was asked in passing why my lunch break had taken so long that day. I could honestly reply I was at the chemists, and not in a local gay bar, looking for glue. 

I need another break.

[Ed: Again!]

Yes, it’s getting sticky, weather wise not glue wise.

[Ed: Do you think we can finish next time?]

Most likely. Unless I remember some other antidotes.

[Ed: Gordon Bennett! Will this never end..]