This knitting in the round thing is curiously addictive.
Or perhaps it's just the round and round in circles that's appealing to me to right now.
Hard to tell.
I can tell you that I have two pairs of sensible, tailored, navy wool slacks,
and that I'm ironing white shirts for the first time in living memory (thank you Joke, for the tips, my technique is slowly improving).
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm deeply grateful to have been offered permanent employment at New Job. I know how lucky I am.
It's just that's it's hard to be Rock and Roll
in a burgundy polyester vest with matching prefab velcroed cravat and scrunchie.
Yes, I cool it up as best I can with the sunglasses (Givenchy),
and the boots (R.M. Williams chisel-toe cuban heels),
but the ugly fact remains that I look and feel like a 1980s hotel concierge,
and every time I catch myself in the mirror, the urge to shriek is just too much to bear.
I want you to promise,
that if you ever hear me praise the music of Andre Rieu without the faintest trace of irony,
if the words 'mortgage' or 'two bedroom unit' should cross my lips in any context, whatsoever,
or if I should show the faintest interest in organised sport (with the possible exception of World Cup soccer, but totally including golf),
that you will intervene immediately, en masse, remove me to the nearest chickenwire bar,
and get me leglessly drunk.
Thank you in advance.