Matching your shoes to your hotel carpet…
I’ve hardly updated this blog for the last few months – not because I don’t know what to write about, but because what’s been going on hasn’t been my story to write – and the people that I love don’t need to read about their lives through my eyes on these pages. But those same people need distractions and so I’m back, by parental demand.
In a nutshell, I’ve still been buying shoes (including the shiny happy sparkly boots that arrived in a big parcel of happiness yesterday), I’ve still been going to the gym (well, not quite so much as I should have been) and I’m still enjoying a glass of wine or two.
Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits and I have bought bicycles (electric bikes with power assisted pedalling – so that we can race each other uphill), and well, we’re growing middle-aged disgracefully. I bought a sensible-ish folding one, but he went for a mountain bike with suspension, just because he could. His bike looks as cool as all hell but my one is way quicker from a standing start (as we discovered doing a mini grand prix in our local supermarket car park).
I’ve been to summer barbecues, wedding receptions, and have been camping in the Cotswolds. I’ve laughed and cried like no other time in my life and endeavour to be a better person, to let the people I love and who love me, know that they are always in my thoughts.
Life is way too short, but enjoy it in every way you can. Now, I’m off to ride my byocycle, I’m off to ride my bike…
With the beginnings of a pale-skinned golden glow I’ve decided to embrace this summer’s ice-cream pastels.
I’m loving these little beauties – comfortable, cute and practical – albeit I sound like an excited Shetland pony at anything above sauntering pace – clogs do not allow for ninjaesque stealth skills.
I’ll be teaming them with this baby pink cropped blazer – let’s hope the sunshine lasts longer than my patience!
MrShoeThatAlwaysFits was with me on a recent shopping trip to find the perfect pair of zebra print shoes.
He, of course, not understanding that I would never sleep again if I didn’t buy them, balked at the price. I didn’t bat an eye telling him that I would wear them so often that the underlying cost per wear would in fact be pennies. I’ve worn them pretty much constantly since.
The reason they had to be zebra print in the first place was this:
My reward for finally wearing a bikini on a recent trip to Portugal. OBB is still work in progress but a 17 year absence from bikini babe-dom has been eliminated – and if that ‘s not worth some celebratory zebra prints then I don’t know what is !
I’ve been absent without leave from the blogosphere, which means that I’ve been busy. And when I say busy, I mean sleep-deprived busy. As has Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits.
Which is why we were stunned, dazed and confused when our schedules combined within a 2.5 mile radius in London on Monday. We were in the same place at the same time. In the 10 years we’ve lived south of the border, this is unheard of.
I quickly booked a hotel for us in Kensington for Sunday night – this meant that we could get up slowly on Sunday and head through to the big smoke for the day. We could shop, we could enjoy a glass of wine or two, and then we could shop. Between us we bought three pairs of shoes, two for me one for him. This is a normal and healthy ratio for a female:male shoe-off. Although, I haven’t seen my new shoes since then. Hmm, I may be the victim of a hostage situation – he may actually be holding me to the ‘one pair in, one pair out rule’. I don’t remember that discussion over late night gin in a tin.
We did all that and more and headed off our separate ways on Monday morning. My conference was less than a 30 minute tube ride away, Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits was a 15 minute drive away so I left for work later than I do every day I’m in the office – a brilliant start to a Monday I find. He finished filming 30 minutes earlier than I did and came to collect me so that we could drive home together. My own windswept and interesting chauffeur – all I had to do was keep a steady supply of coffee and chewing gum flowing on the journey home.
I’m still in a state of shock, and no matter what this week has since thrown at me, I remain well and truly inside my happy bubble.
Thus, our once in a decade day will be remembered as happily as eating warm apple strudel in the restaurant at the top of Grossglockner.