Thoughts and Observations

“There is nothing wrong in change, if it is in the right direction. To improve is to change, so to be perfect is to have changed often.” - Winston Churchill.

At last, it is April; winter is fading, and spring has arrived. I will not miss winter, since it has become a season of dull, dreary, and damp days rather than the bright, brisk, and bitterly cold days where walking was a brusque pleasure rather than a despondent trudge. 

The emergence of Spring is a welcome change, and it made me think about change in general. The proverb says, “A change is as good as a rest,” and while I generally prefer the latter to the former, change happens to us all, whether we like it or not.

Changes in ourselves may be obvious as we grow and mature, or more subtle like the first time we say, “I would love a cup of tea”, or find ourselves tuning into Radio 4 rather than Radio 1. The world around us changes, as do the people we feel close to. We are animals who need to feel connected, and hopefully, the people around us can enrich our lives as the final squeeze of the tea bag does for our cup of tea.

The changes I am experiencing are rather personal, so I hope you don’t mind me sharing them with you. If you do, please stop reading and turn the page, but if you don’t mind my honesty, please keep it between us. I know I can trust you.

I read somewhere that knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is knowing it doesn’t go into a fruit salad. Personally, knowledge is knowing I am getting older, and wisdom is knowing I can no longer put my socks on while standing up. Wisely, I sit down to save myself from falling flat on my face. 

Other changes have occurred to my body. There was a time when I had a waist, and my body tapered inwards somewhere between my neck and the top of my legs. This narrowing was quite helpful in keeping my trousers in place. A belt, strategically attached to the trousers, could be fastened around the waist with minimal fuss, ensuring that one’s trousers remained anchored to the body. Knowing that my trousers were secure, I could safely manage moving, running, bending, and so on.

Not only have I lost my waist, but I have gone from a concave to a more convex shape. Once, I had a waist, so where do I wear a belt now? Positioning my belt where I once had a waist was possible, but the belt seemed to have shrunk. With a pull and a tug, I could get the belt done up, but not to the same hole as before; indeed, the crease in the belt where it used to fit was some distance away. Not only that, my middle became so constricted that bending over to tie my shoes was not only positively painful, but it seemed to stop the flow of blood through my body, making me feel faint. A new solution had to be found. Logically, my belt could go over or under the bump, so I tried both. Under the bump was not a good look. It looked like I was trying to wear hipster trousers, and as only Jean Shrimpton or Twiggy ever managed to look good with a low-slung waist, I gave up that idea.

Over the bump is appealing because I always found my grandfather’s trousers fascinating. In his soft Nottinghamshire accent, he would refer to them as his Oxford bags, and they were simply magnificent. The waistband of his bags rested halfway up his chest, about a foot beneath his chin, while the body of the trousers plunged to meet the legs, each so vast that they could almost pass as skirts. They ended with enormous turn-ups; there was nothing drainpipe-like about them. They were a man’s trouser, and they certainly made their presence felt.

April 2025

I was tempted, and I thought about Oxford bags, but I can’t afford turn-ups on the trousers I have, let alone the volume of material needed for the rest. Still, my grandfather did have the answer. His bags were suspended from his shoulders by braces! Why didn’t I think of that before?

I eventually found Marks and Spencer in Hedge End using my car's satnav and bought a pair. Why are they called a pair? Is it because trousers have two legs? Anyway, they had clasps on the ends to attach to the waistband, and after much fiddling, I managed to get them over my shoulders and my legs into my trousers. The result was immediate—elegance and comfort combined. No belt now, just braces and a newfound freedom. Thank you, Granddad. It's been sixty-five years since I last saw you, and you gave me my best Christmas present. Indeed, no more socks, pants, or handkerchiefs for Christmas. I want braces in as many colours and styles as possible. “Roger and the amazing technicolour braces” has a lovely ring to it, which reminds me of something else, though I can’t quite place it.

I have been honest about my discovery of and my use of braces. Americans refer to them as suspenders, but then, they wear their pants on the outside. We are two nations divided by a common language, and I hope that is all that will separate us.

“Good grief. It's you. Now, get me out of those trousers.” Wallace. The Wrong Trousers (1993).