Well I haven't worn a suit in 3/4 years, except at two funerals! According to British Hollywood, I should have had Eight Weddings in there as well, but hey, this is East London, and the weddings are Bollywood, and I have yet to taste one.
So I dusted out my suits today, and tried them on, for practice. The psychology of wearing a suit, on yourself as well as other people, is not to be underestimated. It's also because I have been recovering some kickass survival skills since Dad finally died. It was scary at first getting the suits out , but with the full length mirror, I was soon quite into it, critically and complimentary. You'd think I was putting on a chain mail suit of armour, the way it affected my confidence. Ridiculous, that modern man should need such fabric trappings to go about the world and try to earn a living. But I didn't invent this stupid world, and I'm getting too old to fight the things that never seem to change. So off I go to the office temp agencies tomorrow. God give me strength. I'll walk into them, and the young ladies will figure out I'm gay as soon as I open my mouth, and pop me into that pigeonhole. Ain't no pigeon here honey, so you better join the RSPB and hope to learn otherwise.