Falling apart

Just before we went off to California, I had a phone call from my hairdresser - was everything ok?  For only the second time in twenty five years, I'd missed my appointment.  Of course, my computer had crashed, I'd lost my online diary and though I was feeling a little shaggy, I had forgotten.  She very kindly squeezed me into her busy schedule - I normally book months in advance - for yesterday afternoon.

Feeling a little chilly, I wore socks for the first time since May and had to pull out a pair of "proper" shoes - I grabbed a favourite pair of backless leather shoes, bought in Banana Republic a couple of years ago and hurried out the door, aware that I really needed to be there promptly.

As I walked through Cirencester Market Place however, I noticed something funny about my feet and looked down - perhaps the hems of my jeans were catching under my shoes, for they were a little long.  That wasn't the case though - the whole of the rubber sole on the right shoe had come off, was disintegrating into black rubbery bits and I was left with virtually nothing underfoot!  No time to do anything about it now - I headed for the hairdressers, leaving a trail of black bits behind me on their bright green stair carpet.  When I got there, I found the same thing happening to the left shoe as well - providing plenty of entertainment for all present!

An hour later, I had no choice but to step out (carefully) and make my way to the nearest shoe shop - Clarks - and buy replacements.  Needless to say, anything vaguely interesting in my size was not in stock and having tried all manner of boots and shoes, I was struggling to make any kind of sensible purchase.  I couldn't bring myself to buy something horrendous, however cheap and settled for a pair of flat ballet-type shoes, even though I already have a couple of similar pairs at home.



Arriving home, feeling miffed, one small feature brightened my day.



They have a very pretty sole!




Time to go home