Were it possible to marry an inanimate object, I would marry my new blue shoes. I love them like Joanie loved Chachi, Romeo loved Juliet, like Brad loves Angelina. If I was not quite so lacking in the available funds I would totally have myself a shoe addiction. Unfortunately I have more important things to spend my limited cash on, like food, for example, and rent. And so when I do treat myself to footwear not purchased for £4 in Primark it’s a pretty big deal. I’m not talking expensive shoes here either, I’m talking about the £20-30 ballpark. Picture the scene – you’re idly wandering around Dorothy Perkins (other High Street stores are available) waiting to be inspired enough to part with your very hard-earned cash when something catches your eye. It’s a pair of shoes. They’re electric blue and made of something that would be suede if this were a much more high class establishment. Yes, they were probably still constructed by a four year old child toughing it out in a Bangladeshi sweatshop but, oh, sweet Lord, they’re beautiful. You stop. You stare. You gingerly reach out to touch the aforementioned faux-suede. It feels good. Really good. And just like that, you’re in love. You must have them. You do a quick bit of arithmetic in your head (alright, on the calculator on your iPhone) to work out if your 10% NHS worker discount will mean that you can both purchase these beautiful objects AND pay your electricity bill. It’s looking good. You feel slightly guilty about the impending purchase but not guilty enough to put the shoes back. So you head towards the counter. The sometimes friendly, always over-caked in foundation girl at the till offers you a smile. You cautiously give one in return, place the shoes on the counter and wait until time comes for payment. You slip your debit card into the machine slot and enter your PIN. Now comes what is, in my opinion, the most nail biting part of the whole ordeal – either your card will accept the price and debit your account accordingly, in which case you will leave the shop with your awesome shoes and your head held high, or…..your card will be declined. You will mutter something incomprehensible to Foundation Girl about how that card’s been giving you so much trouble lately before fleeing with your tail between your legs and the knowledge that you will never be able to shop there again. Hopefully though, and certainly in the case of The New Blue Shoes, everything goes swimmingly and you find yourself back at home, cup of tea in one hand, the other gently caressing the beautiful blue material between fingertips. Life is good. It’s very good. And you have the shoes to prove it. One day you may even have occasion to wear them, but until then, they’re pretty great to look at.
One thought on “Day Twenty Two: my new blue shoes”
I am trying not to be stalkerish and write something on every single one of your posts… so this will be my last one for today.
I have decided that I want to live in your head. I can’t stop reading your posts, because I can’t stop giggling and lovingly gawking at every sentence you write – you are stupidly talented. Did you know that? Your way with words, your insane sense of humour and ability to write the most engaging and clever stories about, well, a pair of shoes for example – now that is inspiring.
I am so proud of you love. Please keep writing to us all. One day there will be a book. And then books. And then library’s filled with your talent. xx