The swimsuit challenge

I blame myself really.  I should have made it much, much clearer.  When I asked the shop assistants in various Leicester clothing emporiums (or should that be emporia?) for swimsuits, I should have stated that I'm not a contestant on 'Survival of the Fittest' or 'Ibiza Weekender'.

Honestly - I've seen more material on a hamster's jock strap!  Three tiny triangles of lycra-infused polyester and metal hoops does not constitute any swimming costume that will, or even could at maximum stretch, clad this nearly middle-aged bod.

Perhaps I should have been flattered that underneath my coat, scarf and jumper combo, worn to see off the harshest February winter weather, they considered the possibility that there was hidden a physique suitable for this minimalistic ensemble.

But, then again, as that was all they had in stock, perhaps no compliment was intended at all.

I thought to myself maybe it's the wrong time of year, although naively I assumed that some people these days holiday in exotic climes all year round, therefore swimsuits of some description would be freely available.

It may have been my choice of shop - I didn't want to spend a fortune on something I wear briefly a couple of times a year at most, so budgetary considerations came into play and I selected the High Street's, or in this instance Highcross's, finest womenswear stores.

Whichever of the above scenarios was the explanation, I still think I can't be the only person that would prefer a more encompassing, fuller bodied brief and top that flatters rather than exposes too much flesh can I?

Thankfully, my local supermarket back home came up trumps.  Whilst doing the weekly shop I spied just the job - a pretty swimsuit that covered all the right places and even had a little skirt to camouflage the only thing I will ever have in common with Kim Kardashian.

Not for the first time did I give thanks for George Davies and the clothing lines he created.