Thursday, 17 November 2011
Nearly two years ago a certain someone offered to make him some trews with many, many pockets. He does like a variety of pockets to stash half the contents of the house in. I think it is a male version of a handbag. I have been assured many pockets = a happy boy. The more pockets the happier. It's a strange old world when pockets equate to happiness but there it is. This certain person (it may have been me) has completely failed to come up with the goods. Not really much of a surprise when you consider the fact that sewing makes my wrists hurt.
Poor DD has gone with out. He has patches on his patches and some of his old trews are positively indecent. It has become a far cry from fashionable wear and tear and now is in the realm of looking like a tramp. Not to mention frost bite of the unmentionables.
This morning saw the delivery of two brand new, shiny, pocket laden pairs of trews. Never has there been a happier boy! He spent a good 15 minutes counting his pockets with a big childlike grin on his delectable mush.
I may have failed in the creation department but I have made up for it with sheer volume of pockets.
I know how to keep a man happy!