I have a weird concept of the importance of socks. I rate socks. Donning new, fluffy socks in the morning makes me feel like a prince. Same thing with jocks. Well, they need not be fluffy. The rest of my wardrobe is low key. I am a big fan of anonymity and practicality.

I went shopping with my sister the other day. She helped me select a cool pair of jeans and a neat jumper from Yd. I'd like to think I have a reasonable sense of style, when I choose to exercise it. However I get too dirty at work to dress up. That actually works quite well, it gives me an opportunity to wear the clothes that Mum delights in buying. I've recently had visions of developing a fashionable wardrobe, but it rubs against my priorities. To paraphrase; I am not my fucking khakis.