Ode to a shoe
dented beyond repair I mentioned in my earlier post that I had a slight mishap with my favourite pair of shoes. They weren't really expensive at £25 from Dorothy Perkins but they were my dependable pair of shoes that would go the distance whatever a night out held in store. Sadly, they are in a state of disrepair and are heading for that great shoe store in the sky but I feel I should write about our short life together before I box them away. So here is an open letter to my poor shoes. Dear Shoes, Maybe it was the redness in you, brought the devil out in me. You never really stood a chance. On the first day of our relationship, we went out for a couple of drinks and I let a little Irish guy wear you to dance in a karaoke bar. This crime was only remembered a week later . . . damn those sambuca shots. You've always been the perfect partner-in-crime and I had so much fun wearing you, parting is such sweet sorrow. Alas, it was a...