I’m packing for the first time today. It’s liberating and feels so natural. It may be a little bigger than I’d imagined but it was all they had at Liverpool and I was determined not to come home empty handed.
However, packing made me realise something quite important – I’ve got NO FUCKING TROUSERS! I’ve tried on every pair of trousers that I’ve got and, except for the suit pants, all of them are inappropriate, bordering on obscene. The cut is all wrong and rather than a pleasantly modest manly bulge it looks like I’ve got a hernia.
Went to Matalan to get something more suitable. All was going well until it came to trying stuff on in the changing rooms. I went in confident but apparently it all kicked off outside with someone complaining. The female attendant was concerned there was a woman in the male changing room but Chris shut that shit down right away with “I don’t think so love, that’s my husband”. I was so proud of her but I felt incredibly guilty about putting her in the position of having to engage with strangers.
I am Jonathan 