Pav’s Patch; Pants-hunt is a big waist of time

FOR the past month I’ve been popping into Primark twice a week during my dinner hour. And guess what? I have never been able to find a pair of black pants to fit.

There are all sorts of other combinations, but trousers with a long leg and 36-inch waist just don’t exist.

And it’s not just Primark, it’s the supermarkets too.

Funnily enough, I have never had problems with any other item of clothing — only the pants. Perhaps I should start wearing a kilt.

One thing that has come to my attention as I comb the store rails, is how well the general public treats the various items of clothing.

They often take care to drop them in some dust before crumpling them up and stuffing them back on to the hangers.

Crumpled pants, they’re so appealing — nearly as much as crumpled, tried-on T-shirts. As for underpants, I’ll only buy those if the seal on the packet hasn’t been broken.

When you are as tall as I am, buying pants can be, well, pants.

When I was a postman, and rather thinner than I am now, I was measured for my uniform by the inspector, a rather stressed man would walk around the sorting office mumbling: “Bloody pantomime. Bloody circus.”

I was quite excited when my uniform arrived but, because I was 6ft 4ins, the powers-that-be dictated that I must have a 48-inch waist. My post office trousers were so big I could have fitted a mailbag inside them.

So I would like the shops to make sure they always have some pants in that would fit me. It’s not too much to ask. I mean, they wouldn’t allow themselves to always be missing one particular size of bra.

Or perhaps they do. I have to admit I have very little experience of lingerie departments.

When I was married, I did once try to buy my wife some of the stuff but found the whole experience unbelievably embarrassing.

Fortunately, I was helped out by a very pretty girl. but she was young enough to be my daughter.

“What size is she?” I was asked and replied: “Oh not as big as you,” meaning taller. The assistant smirked and I realised how my comments were being misconstrued in terms of the young woman’s figure and started to mumble nonsense.

I have never felt so relieved as when I left the shop with my goods, although I then had to spend half the day walking round Edinburgh with a bag that told everyone what I had been buying.