I have taken to wearing ties again. I think this caused no end of humour with my work colleagues, as I naturally received a few good-natured but slightly sly questions about job interviews, parole officers, tax audits and the like. While a smaller more persistent number seem genuinely intrigued. Perhaps upon some reflection, it is true that in matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.

But when pressed, what in all sensibility can I say? As the truth is rarely pure and never simple. While I have a varied and somewhat extensive collection, it’s not like I am unusually vain, nor am I, in a sense, freeing them from the dark recesses of my cupboard, like a flock of colourful birds desiring release into the warmth and light.

It may also be linked to a friable post-pandemic state of mind. Despite the appearance of formal leisure wear, surely, as adults, we can all agree that track suit pants are neither suitable, nor acceptable day wear in polite company.

In a rare but honest self-appraisal it may simply be, that I am burning off the covid kilos at a rapid pace, where long unused French cuff shirts once again sit somewhat more elegantly around my frame. Some honest but hesitant reflection does support the contention that, if the truth be told, if I am occasionally a little over-dressed, I make up for it by being always immensely over-educated.

Interestingly, as a background to my re-blossoming sartorial elegance, work seems to be resisting calling all and sundry back to the office. If a return, by happenchance is proposed, it will certainly inspire some measure of physical, moral and spiritual resistance. However, upon some reflection some may say that what seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.

Ties, French cuffs and possibly fedora hats aside, I do believe the very thing I that I have missed the most about a return to work is the very idea of a civilised city luncheon. I never change, except in my affections and I stand by the delight of good company and a fine meal bookended by the contemplation of the challenges of the work day.

Perhaps in my deep honesty, I might possibly recognise that I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them. Having the opportunity to ponder and discuss the world, over a delicious meal, delightful company and an earthy shiraz is the very best of things.

Well that and a nice muffin.

To say that I have borrowed for this piece, in a gentlemanly fashion of course, a number of quotes from one of my favourite plays would be a most dreadful accusation. But I could deny it if I liked. I could deny anything if I liked.