By Allan Crow
I hate shopping for clothes.
I lose interest quicker than the salesman can slip the jacket off its hanger, and usually end up just taking the first one I try on.
I’ve had two suit buying missions so far and drawn a complete blank.
The first saw me mutate into Kevin the Teenager as I snorted at the price tags - £350? Aye right etc etc- and the second saw me eye up a cool Mafia-style blight blue pinstripe number until the sales bloke said he too thought it was ace. He was about 17 years old and built like a pipe cleaner. I’m 51 and lardy.
Guess which size they don’t even make, let alone stock?
Cough, sniff: Spent the bulk of last week battling that most hellish of illnesses. Yup, man flu.
The duvet and sofa became my temporary home as I surrounded myself with the essentials - Lemsips, digestive biscuits, TV remote, and enough vitamins to take over Holland & Barrett.
Meetings were cancelled and work abandoned as I shivered, sniffed and felt utterly rubbish.
Thanks to my chums who cheerfully informed me the symptoms come and go for one month!
Eating out: Came across a new venue for food in Edinburgh - one worth checking out.
The old Dick Vet college is part of the Summerhall complex on the edge of the Meadows - as if you were heading to the pool orHolyrood Park.
It’s a warren of old lecture rooms with all the kit from its student days as we realised as we tucked into our food ... served on a table that was once used for operations.
It still had the old foot pump to raise it up. And it worked!