This Ordinary Life

My job requires me to wear a suit as it seems that for some reason clients don't buy our product when we're in flip flops and Bermuda shorts. It's seems to be a fact of life that people trust a man in a suit and I have no choice but to conform.

Men are quite lucky that our corporate uniform is the suit as it makes getting ready for work a breeze. Sure, there are still plenty of fashion faux paxs to be made (e.g. striped shirt and tie, clashing shirt and tie), but generally we are quite safe.

However, this lulls us into a false sense of security. Why? Well, men's suits are a bit of a scam. The reason is that the trousers always wear out years before the jackets do and, unless you buy your suits from a discounter, you only ever get one pair of trousers. Why can't you just buy a second pair? Well, that's because supposedly unless the trousers come from the same bolt of material (that's tailor speak for piece) it wouldn't match the jacket. Poppycock!

Well, this has left me in a dire state. My first suit wore out in the crotch area (this is the weak point of suit trousers, much like the poor quality resistors built into electronics to make them break a month after the warranty expires), the trousers on the second suit on tore out while bending over, those from my third got caught on something and my fourth and fifth ones look like summo suits as I bought them a while back when I was a Goodyear Blimp.

Now I have to buy at least 2 new suits despite the fact I have at least 3 perfectly good jackets! Being frugal, I first checked to see if I could find a suit on Ebay (I love Ted Baker Endurance suits, but would never pay full price) and the abundance of jackets only substantiated my hypothesis.

So if you are irked by the "trouser wearing out way before the jacket" conspiracy, leave me a comment. Once I have collected enough comments, I'll take them to the Global Tailor's Guild (the "GTG”) and demand they stipulate all suit manufacture (in particular, Ted Baker with a brand that suggests the longevity of their product) produce extra trousers. By the way, I managed to get 2 Ted Baker suits in the House of Frasier sale for £400 all up, so my corporate life is saved!

That suited me, indeed...

Posted by this ordinary life at 11:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A good friend of me lent me a bicycle for the last two years. I gave it a good home and it served me very well. It helped me circumvent and avoid innumerous days of tube delays and temperature that you couldn't legally transport livestock in.

However, those days are gone as he needed the bicycle back. Well, at least, until I buy a new bicycle. I already have a very good value bicycle, the Focus Black Forest, but that's a story for another day.

Being bicycleless and back on the Tube, I have noticed something. No, not the sweat deluge generating temperatures or vast quantity of people with death written on their faces. No, I have experience the sensation of sheer futility of being part of the London collective.

What do I mean, you ask? Every person riding in my carriage, my train and my route to work has their own story. These stories are interconnected with other peoples stories, etc, etc. Therefore, by riding the tube to work just once I am exposed to almost an infinite amount of other people's experiences. It is awe inspiring to the point that I am finding it a bit overwhelming...

People say that you are connected to every other person by 7 degrees of separation, but by how many degress of separation are we connected by virtue of association. So many people must take the same train to the same place, perhaps even the same company and never know the other person exists.

If I had the choice to choose a career soley on how interesting I would find it (assume I won the lottery or inherrited a fortune), it would have to be sociology or psychology. I am simple fascinated by the human psyche and the interactions between people.

Everything has a story, a watch, outfit, fascial expression... Take a look around the tube or large group of people and appreciate the sheer volume of experiences shared amongst everyone. If it doesn't make your head spin, suck some helium and talk like a high-pitched small person. That will...

Posted by this ordinary life at 9:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Another flight back to London, another debacle... You'd think for some reason someone is telling me not to come back.

How'd this trip back start, you ask? We'll everything went like clockwork until I got on the plane. The run up was almost perfect. Train was quick and although I forgot to stamp my ticket, which I now habitually buy, there was no conductor checking tickets (Whoohoo! Free trip!). Check in at the airport was quick and the whole haxe in my check-in luggage went
undiscovered. Hugo Boss had a sale on underwear and my ipod was fully charged.

What could possibly go wrong? Well, stepping into a puddle of molten jello outside my gate should have warned me of things to come.

Well, take one flight from Moscow that was touching down in Dusseldorf to pick up passengers (I.e. Me) for London, the sub-European security standards of Moscow and one security person in Dusseldorf who overlooked the fact that the passengers transiting through Dusseldorf needed to get off an go through security and you get utter chaos.

Just at the point where the pilot's voice comes one to welcome you on board we had the following:

"Greetings every one this is your capitain. I have just flown in from Moscow."

Good for you, I thought. I would mind visiting Moscow, but what does this have to do with this flight?

"Well, everything is ready for us to take-off, but we have a security issue."

Crap. Terrorists have found my haxe in the hold and are guiltily gorging themselves on it.

"We just arrived from Moscow... The sub-standard security spiel I just ran you through a moment ago... The only choice the Federal Police have given is is to load everyone ontp buses take you all through security again and get you back on board as quickly as possible.

Wouldn't it make more sense just to take the Russians off the plane?

Anyway, 10 minutes later we arrive at the security checkpoint to go through security again, but instead of the standard once over we are subjected to a very thorough search. It's not like we were on a flight from Islamabad or Bagdahd where they forgot to do security checks, this is Dusseldorf, Germany, for Pete's sake!

Well, after being frisked by a very butch woman, having someone comment on the bag of popcorn in my carry-on bag and fighting off a frictional chubby from the pat down, I was finally on my way back to the plane.

All in all this debacle cost me 45 minutes of my life and resulted in a good story to tell.. What awaits me on my next trip scheduled is anyone's guess...

Posted by this ordinary life at 6:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)