By Aine

You’ve probably heard about the recent document created by one Steven Mulvain, a young official from the British Foreign office, in which he ridiculed the Pope and his forthcoming visit to England.

Mr. Mulvain had attended a brain storming session and obviously found it boring so he tried to amuse himself by coming up with a few suggestions of his own as to what Pope Benedict could get up to when he was in the country.

He suggested that perhaps the Pope could launch a range of condoms, maybe preside over a gay marriage, sack “dodgy bishops” and launch a helpline for abused children.

He also suggested in his missive that the Pope could sing a duet with the Queen to raise money for charity (excuse me here for a moment, as I am convulsed with laughter!)

Now how do you feel about this? Are you offended? Are you (even slightly) amused?

I must admit I laughed out loud when I heard it on the evening news and laughed again when I read about it in the following day’s paper!! I could see it for what it was…….a  bit of tomfoolery from a bored individual who had no interest whatsoever in the Pope paying a visit to Britain. He had never meant for it to get into the public domain.

How many people during the working day and on the company’s computer send amusing emails to friends, ridiculing all and sundry? Harmless fun? Are you offended by them? Most people promptly forward them to other friends!

How many people in a business meeting doodle the boss’s face and make him look like Shrek then pass it around for the amusement of others? Offensive? Nah, just a bit of harmless fun. We are all guilty of trying to lighten a boring meeting.

I don’t believe for one minute the offending memo was meant to intentionally disrespect the Pope, and the ensuing brouhaha only served to ignite that element of the public that like to take offensive at positively anything.

Anyway, the Vatican has been appeased and the planned trip will go ahead according to Fr. Federico Lombardi, the Vatican spokesman, but they are said to be disappointed that Steven Mulvain was not sacked.

British Foreign secretary David Miliband was said to have been “appalled” when he heard about the memo. His office proffered an apology saying the suggestions were “ill-judged, naïve and disrespectful”.

Furthermore, the memo necessitated a meeting between Francis Campbell, Britain’s ambassador to the Vatican (never knew there was such a thing) and senior officials of the Holy See, presumably with Mr. Campbell prostrating himself and begging forgiveness for the offending suggestions.

And what of poor Steven Mulvain, the Oxford graduate who dared to joke about the Pope?  He has been transferred to another office where presumably he will have plenty of time to reflect and conclude that political correctness has been taken to a whole new level.

Update:

If you thought Steven Mulvain got himself into hot water with his gaffe about the Pope, spare a thought for poor old Gordon Brown yesterday.                

Gordon, on a walkabout in Rochdale, Greater Manchester to muster up support for the forthcoming election, came across one Gillian Duffy, a 65-year-old Labour supporter with some strong views. She questioned the Prime Minister about pensions, the national debt, and immigration amongst other things.

Nothing wrong with that, but when Gordon Browne got into his ministerial car, still wearing his microphone (provided by Sky news no less) he was overheard saying to his aide Justin Forsyth, “that was a disaster” and described Mrs Duffy as a “bigot”.

The flood-gates promptly opened and unleashed the mighty torrent of condemnation down upon Mr. Brown’s head.

Back to Rochdale Mr. Brown had to go and spend 40 minutes apologising to Mrs Duffy. When he emerged from her house he declared himself “a repentant sinner”.

I am of the opinion that this remark should have been let go, after all, is Mr. Brown supposed to like every person he meets on the campaign trail? Is he, the leader of Britain, not meant to have any opinions, or only positive ones? Come on, this is real life here and when you have to walk amongst the public and listen to everyone who wants to air a grievance, whinge, moan, you’d  need to be a saint to enjoy every encounter.

I am more put out with the media reaction to Mr. Brown’s gaffe than the actual gaffe itself.  Mr. Brown showed he is only human like the rest of us.

The subsequent media frenzy was disgusting, and totally over the top, like a pack of wild animals baying for blood. I don’t really care who should win the election across the pond but if prospective Gordon Brown supporters choose to hold this against him, I believe they would be making a huge mistake.

“Let him who is without sin, cast the first stone”.

by Aine

Watching the news the other evening and an advertisement came on in the break for toothpaste.  The dentist in the ad warned the viewer of the dangers of drinking orange juice, wine etc. as, he claimed, this can damage the veneer of the teeth thereby rendering them brittle and open to decay. Now this advertisement annoys the hell out of me!! I was always told that orange juice was good for me,  indeed it can be counted as one of our five a day!  Now we have a dentist telling us the opposite, it might be good for us……..but not for our teeth. So if I can figure out a way of getting it down my gullet without touching my teeth, I’m onto a winner!        

I was always led to believe that our teeth were for eating with and that was the sole reason why we have a mouth full of them, why little babies go through hell when their new little tootsies are coming through, why baby teeth fall out to be replaced by newer, stronger, bigger molars to take them through adulthood.

But if were to listen to that dentist, who frightened the bejasus out of me, banging on about decay, gum disease and weakening teeth, I’d resolve to eat no more!!!!!!!  Certainly nothing that I have to chew……..steak is out completely, indeed most meat and poultry is.  Apples, another healthy option, out too………have to bite down too hard…..bread rolls – too chewy. No more al-dente vegetables ……….now they will have to be boiled to mush! From now on I think all my food will have to be pureed. Or I will have to resort to baby food!  Either that or stick to a diet of overripe bananas and yogurt!

Don’t consider that our teeth are for eating with anymore; think of them only as display items.. Hollywood white teeth, sparkling, all in perfect shape, uniform in size and dazzling brightness, to be used for the sole purpose of smiling.

And while we are on the subject of teeth, two friends recently had to go to the dentist, and both were told that they needed expensive root canal treatment. My own son, who has beautiful teeth was also told he needed root canal treatment, my daughter lost a piece of her filling and was told she needed root canal treatment…… What’s all this about? I remember when you went to the dentist for two things, either to have a problem tooth removed or to have a filling, there was no mention of root canal treatment.  But now it seems to be very in vogue.

Last time I went to the dentist I had my teeth cleaned. Not a nice experience, no matter how necessary. It bloody well hurt! I honestly thought he was pulling my teeth out, such was the pain. Some experiences just don’t get any better and going to the dentist is one of those things. So for now I will just cower behind the sofa when I see the one on telly chirpily advising me of the hazards of fruit juices!!

By Aine

One of my abiding childhood memories is of myself and Grainne being sent out to get milk. Not to the shop you understand, God no.  The local farmer would come into town, with his horse and cart, his daughter in tow to assist him and we would line up with the other customers from our avenue, with our jugs, which he filled from a huge churn on the back of his cart. Milk didn’t come much fresher than that.

We would fight over who carried it back home, neither of us wanting to, it was a tricky job as the jug would be filled to capacity and hard for our little four-year-old arms to carry without spilling any and incurring the wrath of our mother.

I’m not sure how or why this tradition died out; maybe it was due in part to the powers that be in the E.E.C., as it was then known, with their rules and regulations governing such enterprises. But I know that we never suffered any ill effects from drinking the milk straight from the cow.

The farmer with his horse and cart was replaced by a local milk-man who delivered to our doorstep three bottles of fresh milk every day. In old-fashioned glass bottles. It would be placed on the front step at the crack of dawn and would still be ice cold when we brought it in.

Each bottle had a “top” of pure cream on it, and we children would fight over who would get the “top”. Sometimes, for devilment I would shake the bottle if I knew my brother wanted the cream for his porridge!

I have never tasted milk like it, the freshness, the creaminess, the coldness; it was indeed the nectar of the gods!

Then there was the fact that we were re-cycling, long before it was trendy to do so! Each night my mother would wash out the glass bottles, have them gleaming and then stand them out on the front step, in order for the milk-man to replace with fresh supplies next morning. (This exercise however, took a sinister turn, as in later years when Grainne and myself were courting, our mother used to line up the milk bottles in such a way that if we were late home from a night out and hit off the bottles … she would know exactly what time we had come home at – there was no pulling the wool over that woman’s eyes!)

With a growing family of my own and with no milk delivery available where I lived, my constant cry was “Will some-one go to the shop for milk please!”        

When I moved to Kildare three years ago a new milk delivery service came into my area much to my delight!  My children were even more pleased.

Once again we’re back to lovely fresh milk on the doorstep every morning when we wake up. Never again having to dash to the shop for milk while the tea at home stewed with the tea bag still in it ‘till I got back!

Convenience aside, I still yearn for the milk from my childhood, the milk today from plastic cartons just doesn’t taste the same.  And there are those plastic seals to grapple with to get at the contents, no matter how I try to open a carton I end up spilling some with the jerking motion that’s needed to remove it.

Mr. Gormley take note: if you are serious about re-cycling…………start with bringing back the old fashioned glass milk bottle!

by Grainne

Mother nature has a very direct way, from time to time, of letting us know who’s in charge.  We can be going about our business, smug in our ability to manage and organise things when wham!  She gives us a reminder that she’s the real boss and that we are, after all, only minuscule players in the grand scheme of things.

The volcano eruptions in Iceland is a case in point.  This so-called ‘Act of God’ has been aided and abetted by Mother Nature’s insistence on delivering wind and rain free skies over this country and others affected by the ash cloud for more days than we’d usually expect such calm conditions .   And so air travel has ground to a halt with intending travellers’ plans dashed and airlines and spin-off business left counting the immense cost.

We take for granted that we’ll be able to jet off wherever we want to these days, when we want to.  We expect that things will go smoothly.  We want to travel therefore we will.  Until Mother Nature decides to intervene and stop us in our tracks.  Leaving hundreds of thousands of people stranded, their carefully laid plans in tatters.  Business meetings missed, interviews lost, important family events like weddings and christenings cancelled or delayed and of course long-awaited sun holidays and leisure breaks missed.

Every so often Mother Nature unleashes her fiercesome powers and with far more terrible consequences that the present upheaval.  The earthquake in Haiti in January is a case in point, resulting in the death of some 230,000 people, another 300,000 injured and a million people left homeless.  Hundreds died in the earthquake in China a couple of weeks ago, the material cost of the damage hasn’t been fully calculated yet.  In August 2005 Hurricane Kathrina hit the south coast of the US with devastating effect, causing the death of an estimated 1,800 people and causing 81 billion dollars worth of damage, with New Orleans the worst affected.  Worst still was the tsunami in the Indian Ocean in 2004, triggered by an earthquake, in which almost 300,000 people died and millions were left homeless across 11 countries.          

Consider the chaos and misery here caused by heavy flooding of many parts of the country in November and December last year.  Hundreds of homes destroyed by floodwater, people’s livelihoods affected, the heavy cost of mopping up and putting things right.   Then, in January, a few days of (relatively light by some countries standards) snow rendered a lot of roads virtually impassable and resulted in thousands of work days lost and dozens of crashes.   Even so, given the huge loss of life incurred during natural disasters elsewhere, we have a lot to be grateful for.

Natural disasters are nature’s way of telling us that while we might think we are omnipotent, we’re not the ones in charge.  It’s a salutary lesson and a humbling one.

by Grainne

I’m old enough to remember a time when you pulled into a service station for petrol or diesel and it was pumped for you.  You then paid the man/boy at the little kiosk and went on your merry way.

These days you pull into a garage forecourt and the chances are you’ll have a wait on your hands as those in front of you at the pumps, after finishing filling up, go into the shop that’s attached to pay and select and buy various goods while they’re at it..  Of course the very idea of attaching shops to service stations was to have us spend more money with them and nowadays they’re akin to supermarkets, selling everything from groceries to wine, newspapers and magazines to motoring supplies to breakfast, lunch and tea.  Indeed it’s the ubiquitous hot food counters that cause the biggest delay for other motorists queuing up outside to fill their tanks.

Why does it never occur to drivers to move their cars beyond the pumps before heading into the shop to pay or buy other goods?  Especially if they know they’re going to be buying foodstuffs or a number of items and may be a while.   Isn’t it just good manners?  Why don’t service station owners encourage drivers to do this?  It’d make a lot more sense as it’d turn customers over quicker.  I’ve often passed by service stations I’ve been planning to pull into because of the queues, usually caused by those who’ve already got their fuel, inside choosing their newspaper, sweets and snacks, breakfast roll or sandwich or getting their teas and coffees.

Worst still is those that come out of the shop and then sit in their vehicles for a time, having a drink, licking their ice-cream, opening their sandwich or otherwise faffing about, while people like me sit fuming as we wait our turn at the pumps.  And worst of all are those idiots that park in such a way as to block more than one pump or block our means of getting to another one on the forecourt.  Aaaarrrgg!

Another frustration occurs when the pump nozzle is put into the tank and there’s a wait before the person working inside throws the switch to activate it.    It’s annoying to have to stand there, staring balefully in the direction of the shop in the hope that they might actually see that we’re trying to get some fuel.

In some of the larger forecourts there should be, I think, one hatch for those who are only paying for fuel and another for those who are buying stuff from the shop along with their fill,just to keep things moving faster.

One further test of my limited patience in the chore that is tank-filling involves entry and exit from the garage itself.   Usually there’s a way in and a way out.  Usually they’re clearly marked.  But do people abide by this simple protocol?  Do they hell!  There’s always the eejits who enter by the exit and vice-versa and snarl up and block the entrance or exit itself, or the view for the driver doing things the right way round.

All of these irritations conspire to make me fill up as little as possible.  Because I’ve also a bit of a phobia about running out of petrol and will usually head for the filling station at the first sign of the low fuel warning light, it means that I fill the tank to the brim when I do.   Sitting back into the driver’s seat after refuelling I’m always filled with a sense of gratitude that it’s a process I won’t have to endure again for another few days.

By Aine     

I give my house a good clean twice a week. When I say ‘good clean’ I mean, wash the floors, hoover, clean the showers and toilets, dust and polish etc.

The remainder of the time the house gets what my dear old Mother used to call ‘a lick and a promise’.

My two designated cleaning days are usually Mondays and Thursdays but never on a week-end!  Oh God no, weekends are sacred and definitely not for cleaning if I can get away with it.

Now I know some of you ladies (and gents!) reading this are working all week and have no choice but to leave this dreariest of chores until the weekend.

Anyway, yesterday I neglected to clean the house, as I was wrecked after my weekend  away, so put off the cleaning until this morning.

Every house in Ireland has a press or cupboard where the cleaning materials are stored.  Mine, like a lot of yours I suspect, is under the sink.

When I opened my cupboard this morning I was greeted by an awesome array of cleaning agents.  I counted NINE squirty top containers!  Two for cleaning the windows, three for cleaning the kitchen, two to spruce up the bathroom, one for stainless steel, and one for mildew.  NINE containers of cleaning stuff! But that wasn’t the end of it.  Oh no!  I also had THREE furniture polishes, one lavender one, one with beeswax, and one old-fashioned tin of polish!

I counted four boxes of dishwasher tablets and two and a half containers of dishwasher rinse aid.   Seven shoes polishes, three black, two brown, one navy and one maroon!  I had three unopened packets of dishcloths, two bottles of Dettol, two bottles of Cif cream cleaner, four bottles of bleach, two packets of Brillo pads, and three and a half bottles of Jeyes floor cleaner!  Is this some kind of a record?

Why do I keep buying all this cleaning stuff?  It’s not that I live in fear that Kim and Aggie might pop around and take me to task for having a house that is less than gleaming!

No, the problem is that I keep buying all these cleaning products when doing the weekly grocery shop.  I never remember to take note of what I have at home already and so add to my growing collection every week.

Do I really need all this stuff?  No, of course not, but I suspect I am not alone in collection cleaning-stuff.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could buy just two bottles of products that cleaned everything instead of buying the various individual cleaners?  Look at all the money we would save!

One cleaner for bathroom and another one for just about everyplace else.

It certainly would be a hell of a lot cheaper!  And it would cut down on the recycling.

I blame the supermarkets myself.  Everwhere now has two for one offers.  Buy one get one free, buy one get one half price.  It’s geared to making us buy more than we actually need.

I have resolved now to buy any more cleaning product until I have used up every last container under my sink, then I will start afresh and limit myself to just three varieties of cleaner and see how I fare out.

I might even take it a step further and have a look at the bathrooms also, and the collections of shower-gels, soaps, shampoos, conditioners that are lined up on the shelves in the shower and see can I do some weeding out here also.

If I can contain my purchasing of non-essentials to a minimum I should save myself a fortune!
I will keep you informed of how I get on.

By Aine

I laughed out loud recently when I read a report that the Chairman of Sony Pictures, one Mr. Michael Lynton, wants to ban junk food in cinemas and introduce healthy snack foods instead.

It would seem that Mr. Lynton, one of the industry’s most powerful studio bosses, is waging his very own war on the rising obesity levels worldwide.

He has insisted on healthy alternatives to fizzy drinks, popcorn, and chocolates. He wants to see these items replaced with granola bars, fruit salad, yoghurt and even vegetable crudities. He recently told a convention of cinema owners in Las Vegas “By bringing healthier snacks into your concession stands you would be helping to meet an urgent public health need.”

Its common knowledge that obesity levels are on the rise here in Ireland. According to Professor Donal O’ Shea, consultant endocrinologist at St. Columcille’s Hospital, 25% of the Irish population is now obese.

The Institute of Public Health in Ireland has warned that related health conditions like heart disease, diabetes, stroke and high blood pressure are expected to rise by 40% within the next decade putting a huge strain on the already over-stretched hospitals.

The average bucket of popcorn available at cinema concessions contains 76 grams of fat – the equivalent to six cheeseburgers – and 100 calories! The large carton of fizzy drink can contain the same amount of calories as two pints of alcohol!

Now I view the cinema as the last bastion of sweet- eating heaven.  It’s traditional for God’s sake. I remember, as a child, going to the matinee every Sunday afternoon, and we would be given a few pennies by our parents to stop off at the sweet shop on the way.

Our purchases usually included an ice pop, packet of Tayto crisps, a fizzy drink, and some mixed boiled sweets, usually sour apples, pear drops, acid drops or lemon sherberts! The film we were about to see was made all the better by being able to munch our body weight in sugar all the way through!  Ah different times!  Now we know better of course, so our options are limited. Maybe an apple and a bottle of water, and if we really want to push the boat out …….. some yoghurt coated peanuts!

I do think it’d be a nice idea if some fresh fruit options were available at cinema concession stands.  Don’t know how well it will go down with the sweet-eating public  though, old habits die hard.

By Aine

What’s the story with those inane “Baby on Board” stickers parents insist on putting in the rear view window of their cars?

Are the parents advertising the fact that they have managed to produce a child and are very proud of the fact? That their fertility is not in question?  “Look at us and our cute little tot- aren’t we wonderful”?

Or are they seriously warning us to be careful as we drive behind them as their pride and joy is strapped in the car seat in the back?  Oh well, excuse me missus, I was contemplating rear-ending you but seeing as how you have a ‘baby on board’ I better not!!

Imagine if the silly sticker campaign was extended to include:

‘Temporarily deaf’ – Driving teenagers to the disco, hip-hop music channel at top volume for the duration of the journey thereby eliminating the need for any kind of meaningful conversation, so if there is a garda car, or God forbid, an ambulance behind tough luck, I can’t hear it, but at least my sticker is apprising them of this fact.

Or ‘Mother-in-law on board, please allow lengthy period for disembarkation’ Why does it take elderly ladies so long to get out of a car, and have you heard the noise they make whilst doing so?  The huffs and puffs, groans and moans and other disturbing sounds that accompany such manoeuvres are pretty alarming.

Or a ‘lipstick and make-up application in progress’ sticker. – can’t go to work looking like I’ve been dragged backwards through a ditch, and I did sleep it out this morning!

How about a ‘fiddling with my CD collection’ sticker. –nothing good on radio, now where’s that new CD I bought?

Or ‘texting my friend’ –‘yeah bored in traffic on M50, how did you get on last night?  Actually scrap that one, no Garda, of course I wouldn’t dream of texting while driving……

Or, if it’s a male driver:

‘Caution, slow down – ogling of the female population in progress’ sticker – self explanatory and not just confined to summer months.

Again, if certain male drivers are in situ the following sticker may be useful ‘Caution, need to roll down window and spit every ten miles’

Hormonal woman on board’ – don’t trust her when she indicates –just because she indicates to go right, doesn’t mean she will go right!!

‘Menopausal woman on board No. 1’ – may straddle both lanes at any one time! – Why confine herself to just the one?

Menopausal woman on board No. 2’ – may stop dead on roundabout for no apparent reason!

‘Pensioner driving at snails pace’ – now we have all been stuck behind these.

You know the type, white hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life, centre of the road, probably going to Mass or to collect the pension. You would think at their age they would hurry up- they haven’t got that much time left!!

‘Young good-looking executive driving’ -here comes flash Harry, speeds up behind you, overtakes, usually driving an Audi, BMW, or any other top of the range car, shades to match the colour of his car (even if its not sunny) hair spiked with so much gel it could shore up the leaning tower of Pisa, on the phone to the ‘guys’ to find out where the buzz will be at the weekend?

Apart from defining the Irish drivers, stickers would also give us something to read while stuck in traffic, finding out which category the driver in front belongs to, and taking the necessary evasive action!

Happy motoring!

By Aine

You know the recession is biting world wide when the Sunday papers are full of advertisements for upcoming concerts from international artists who probably should have retired many years ago. Is it that they too have had their pension funds pilfered and now need to be back on the road again, trying to recoup their losses?

Last Sunday’s Independent newspaper alone carried advertisements for five aging rockers, crooners, and middle-of-the- road music peddlers.

I mean some of them I wouldn’t even have bothered going to see in their hey-day never mind now that they’ve achieved pensioner status.

Take, for example, Paul McCartney, who is due to arrive on these shores on 12^th June to play in the RDS arena. The ticket prices for this show are a whopping €70 (cheapest!) to €156.25 (most expensive). For that price I’d want to see the entire group of Beatles and yes, yes, I know two are already deceased.

Then you have Bob Dylan playing in Thomond Park on 4^th July (has he not got some rally to play to in America on that important holiday in his home country?)

Tickets here start at €60 to €81.25 (how do they come up with such a stupid figure, could they not round it off?)

Tony Bennett, that affable old crooner is playing in Cork Marquee on 8^th July and tickets for that are retailing at €65.70.

I used to be a big fan of Willie Nelson many years ago, but saw him on telly one night recently and he couldn’t hit the high notes like he used to so I think Id give his concert a miss and listen to the CD instead thanks. He’s playing in Killarney, Castlebar, and 02 in Dublin.

Kris Kristofferson, another favourite of mine is gracing us with his presence in August playing the Olympia in Dublin, Casltebar, Derry, Belfast, Kilkenny, & Killarney (he must really be desperate for the money.) His ticket prices are probably the most reasonable priced at €48.50 for the cheapest to €61 for the most expensive. Again I heard him in concert recently, and felt he was well past his sell-by date, he did more talking than singing, and his voice seems to being suffering the ravages of his less than healthy lifestyle. Again I think I’ll stick with his CDs.

Have you noticed also when you go to see your favourite artist and want to hear the old favourite songs,  you end up bitterly disappointed as they want to try out the new stuff on you?.

Last year I bought tickets for Tina Turner in the new 02 arena. I bought them for a present for my husband who has always been a big fan. I was first out of the traps when the tickets went on sale and placed my order for the two tickets wich cost almost 300 euro.

Six months later, when the concert date finally came around, we discovered that we were right up against the back wall of the arena and couldn’t see a thing! So much for ordering our tickets early, if it hadn’t been for the two big screens either side of the stage we would have needed binoculars to see the bould Tina strutting her stuff.  Not only was the seating disappointing, so was the entire show. She sang six or seven songs, let her backing dancers do most of the work while she went through numerous costume changes and she spent more time introducing her band than actually singing. I vowed that night to never return to the 02 arena again.

Remember the big kerfuffle about the Barbara Streisand concert and how badly wrong that went? People paid a fortune and had to wade through the muck and rain and when they finally got to their seats other people had occupied them!

These days I like my comfort too much to endure queuing, pushing, squinting, or standing, never mind shelling out large amounts of my hard earned money for the ‘privilege’ of so doing.

So Sir Paul, and Bob, Tony, Willie, and Kris, you will be coming to our little island soon to play your concerts. I will not be there, but there will be plenty of suckers who will and help you pad out your pension funds, so that maybe you can do the right thing and retire gracefully some day soon.   

by Grainne

A man in a suit....mmmm

Men never look better than when they’re attired in a nice suit, I think.  Jeans and shirts are fine, as casual wear goes, polo shirts and combats less so, and track pants and football jersies, well, lets not even go there, but show me a man in a nice suit and I’ll come over all funny.

I’m not really talking here about the men who have to wear suits for work.  Maybe it’s the everyday usage that renders them mundane, maybe it’s their casual comfort in them because they are everyday apparel that lessens the stylish impact, or it could just be that they are cheap suits that have gone shiny through prolonged wear that spoils the look.

I’m talking about a guy getting dressed up in a good suit for an occasion, be it christening, wedding or funeral, or any of the special occasions in between.  Fellas we don’t see ordinarily in suits.  The impact is all the greater when they do.

The darker the better as far as I’m concerned, the exception being plain black which should only ever be worn for funerals.  Speaking of which, I’m old fashioned enough to still believe that there is no greater mark of respect for the deceased than for those attending to dress formally and in black.  There’s just something about a suit that denotes dignity and deference at such times.

Otherwise dark navy, charcoal grey or black softened with a pinstripe are the colours that I like best.  Single or double breasted, I’m not fussy, as long as it looks well.

We often hear men grumble at having to wear a suit for an occasion.  Why?  Do they genuinely believe them to be uncomfortable?  How can they be, if they fit properly?  If a man’s got a gut, his pants are going to sit in the same place as his jeans, or track-suit bottoms, i.e. down underneath his belly.  I think suits actually look better than casual attire on men carrying extra weight.

It may seem strange but, given my penchant for men in suits, I don’t like tuxedos.  It’s contradictory, I know, but I think they look too formal and uniform and the black is too severe.  I really dislike dickie-bows and would far rather see a nice shirt and tie.

The latter I have fairly fixed views on too, in so far as I believe that they should come in white, blue and…….well that’s it, actually.  No pinks, definitely no purples, no burgundys, and absolutely, positively no yellows.   Ties should be plain or striped, no other designs should be entertained.  Novelty ties?  A definite no-no.  Shoes are another important consideration.   Black only please!  Nothing else should be considered.  As for socks, do I even need to say that the black-only rule should also apply?  Unless the suit is dark navy or charcoal grey in which case very dark versions of the same colour socks could be worn.

There was a time when buying a suit constituted a major purchase, and an expensive one.  Not any more, decent quality suits can now be bought off the peg in lots of stores.  That said, I think there should be at least one time in a man’s life when he invests in a made-to-measure bespoke suit.  That way a good fit is guaranteed.  After that, knowing the proper size to fit, it’s easier to buy cheaper versions. The trick is for those who wear them regularly, to discard them as soon as they begin to look shabby or shiny.  The trick for those who wear them only irregularly  to keep them clean dust-free and in good shape is to hang them properly, on a decent wooden hanger and encased in a garment bag.

On the morning of a family wedding last year I came downstairs after my own lengthy preparations to see my sons resplendent in their suits.  They were a sight to behold.  Despite being of varying heights and sizes, they all looked classy and elegant.  I knew that before the day was out they’d have discarded the jackets, and probably the ties so I rushed to record on camera this moment when they looked pristine.  My men in suits is one of my favourite photos.