I recently inherited this fabulous pair of brown boots from my MIL (as she can’t wear them anymore and I’d been admiring them from afar – don’t ya just LOVE hand-me-downs? I do :))
They look fab.
They fit me.
They’re really comfortable.
They’re trying to kill me.
I’d already stumbled twice whilst wearing them this morning (fortunately well away from the eyes of students!). There’s nothing wrong with the heel, they’re not particularly high (kind of cowboy-booty with only an inch or so high heel) or anything so I figured it was just me being cack-footed (can you be cack-footed like you can cack-handed? Hmmmm)
Anyhoo, I had to pop into town for a little lunch time shopping trip today (more on the shopping part later). With my boots conspiring against me with their evil plot, I managed to trip up in the middle of the local shopping centre (outside Boots and Partners for those of you who can envisage the scene of my utter humiliation) and land rather unceremoniously on my arse. Classy, don’t you think?
So. Thinking that I’d managed to get the boots under control and walking with extra care I carried on heading back to the car. Not two minutes later, round the corner (outside the Wetherspoons, for those in the know) I managed to do practically the exact same thing again……….. except………. this time I was rescued from the impending butt-meets-pavement moment by a rather handsome young man with seriously good reflexes (no, I was not throwing myself at him, he was with his mother for God’s sake (she should be so proud, she raised a good boy!)). I can’t remember the last time I was so mortified.
See. My boots really are trying to kill me. They’ve got it in for me I tell you!! Maybe my MIL has decided, after 10 years, that I’m really not an appropriate choice for a DIL and has secretly given me boots with a retractable heel?? Maybe the boots are possessed by the spirit of a failed figure-skater who wants to see the whole world landing on their arses in public? Seriously, something strange is afoot (every pun intended!).
Enough of my humiliatingly public displays of dubious acrobatic skill (except to mention that my foot hurts. I think I’ve pulled something. Ouch!). The reason I was in town in the first place was because I’ve decided to knit a hat, to go with my nice warm snugly New Year's Eve scarf , which I have finished, but haven’t photographed (I will do that to share with you tomorrow). How hard is it to find a set of 4.5mm double pointed needles in a two-knitting-shop town? Well, very, actually. At least the second of the shops offered to call their store in the next town over and get them shipped over to here for tomorrow. Unfortunately, that means another trip into town tomorrow lunchtime.
I think I’ll definitely wear different boots.