Thus does the molehill move and give forth a mouse.

The British mass media purport to take all this nonsense perfectly seriously, as though anyone (a) understands or (b) cares about the royal family's bizarre fixation on the meaningless title 'HRH', or on flag-flying. Reporters enquire further about bowing and curtseying and are told that the position is in fact as before -- bowing and curtseying are entirely voluntary (as before, apparently) and advice has been disseminated to this effect, with the rider that the royals would be grateful if people would nevertheless observe customary practice.

Customary practice has been for all concerned to treat bowing, curtseying and general obsequiousness as obligatory, on the grounds that it would be churlish to behave normally.

It's hard to decide if this strange institution -- the British monarchy -- more resembles Alice in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass. The British republican movement is still tiny. With the monarchy emitting such guff, one has to wonder why.

Desperately seeking green sneakers

5 January 1998 A few years ago - many years ago, in fact - I bought myself a couple of one-piece garments. Jumpsuits? Boiler suits? One of them was red and one was green. I still have them. They appear to have shrunk over the years, but I know that's just one more illusion.

Having bought these striking items of apparel, I decided I wanted to buy a pair of green sneakers, or gymshoes, or plimsolls, or deck shoes. But it didn't matter what I wanted to call them, for there were none to be had. Every manufacturer, every retailer, with one mysterious accord, had decided there was no money in green sneakers, nor any in green gymshoes, nor green plimsolls, nor green deck shoes. For one thing, the new generation of trainers was in. For another, colour was out. After much searching, I bought some sneakers and also something to make them green - paint, or dye. Pretty weird I must have looked in my green jumpsuit when I'd painted up my sneakers, but that was then, as they say.

A few years later, colourful sneakers, or gymshoes, or plimsolls, or deck shoes were in again. But I'm one of those individuals who make up that fickle thing known as the public, and as I no longer wanted green sneakers, nor gymshoes, nor plimsolls, nor deck shoes, I didn't buy any.

When I went to the sales this winter in search of an overcoat, I was reminded of that dispiriting search for green sneakers. A few years ago I used to buy my coats at places like British Home Stores and Marks & Spencer. With one mysterious accord, major clothes retailers have apparently decided that men don't wear overcoats. They wear jazzed-up anoraks. Fun. They wear raincoats. Moody. They wear leather jackets. Mean. Cool. But overcoats? Out. Out. Out.

I had just about given up. But I decided to check out a branch of Moss Bros, although this was with some misgivings, since Moss Bros seemed to be calling itself The Suit Company. Would a suit company sell coats?

Yes, indeed! There were rails laden down with overcoats and I was so overcome that I bought a rather elegant number with a Pierre Cardin label. Even though the coat was in the sale, I was spending about twice as much as I had planned to. But, hey, it was a bargain.

As I walked away with my coat, I wondered what was wrong with the name Moss Bros. Maybe focus groups persuaded the owners that the old name was too - old. They needed something new, sharp - something like The Suit Company. Probably the same thing explains why British Home Stores changed to Bhs and dumped men's overcoats.

But overcoats will be back in fashion one of these years. You can count on it. What goes around, comes around. Just like my sneakers. Trouble is, when coats are in again, I'll probably want a leather jacket.