At a wedding this weekend my female paranoia and over-preparedness was actually pretty beneficial. Walking from the car to the blessing service, I made it only half-way before one leg suddenly rather dramatically sunk to the ground. Frequently used to suffering from gimp leg and an ability to fall over on even surfaces in flat shoes, I thought nothing of it until I stepped forward and realised half my shoe was missing.
Carefully reaching backwards it appeared a substantial portion of my wedge had just fallen away.
I was now left to awkwardly shuffle forward on the remaining section of the shoe back to the car where the shoes I'd originally planned on wearing were safely tucked away.
After slow progress towards the car, sitting in the passenger seat I was finally able to more closely examine the damage and establish that both shoes seemed to suddenly be as equally knackered.
It seemed I was destined to wear the shoes The Boy had sidelined and on this occasion I felt immensely glad I'm generally an over-cautious packer. Unfortunately I didn't factor in the cold Peak District nights and although I may have managed to look the part by day, by night I was mitchelined up in an array of multi-coloured clashing layers and still shivering.
I'm just glad we drove to the service from the guest house, rather than walking or I might have been shoeless all day. Still, I'm now able to get rid of one of the many pairs of shoes I own and don't need without too much heartache - a bulky pair at that!
RIP charity shop bargain shoes.
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