Wednesday, 4 January 2012

slippers







It's sad but true, all I wanted for Christmas this year were slippers.  I must be getting old because previously I was content to wander about in my bare feet or if pushed, at least a pair of flip flops when using a dodgy campsite shower, anything to keep other people's foot infestations at bay.


 

 I knew I was getting old when I recently visited the Ulster Museum in Belfast and there they were, slippers the same as mine from the 70's.  Pink of course, very fluffy with a substantial rubber sole, designed to be passed down to siblings and of course not forgetting the probably very flammable upper. They don't make slippers like that anymore. 




Uggs, love them or hate them.  They're warm but provide no support at all.  FACT, they are slippers and I have it from the horses mouth, Kiwi's do NOT wear them outside!   

Hand on heart, I do not wear slippers outside unless making a quick dash to the washing line and on the one occasion I ventured out wearing a beloved pair of Tinkerbell slippers, it all ended in a bit of an adventure.

My daughter had been complaining of a sore ear and I was sent out on a late night mission to find some Calpol.  I didn't change into my shoes, I just wanted to resolve the problem and get the earache to go away.  I'd only got to the bottom the road and there it was, a crashed car in the middle of the roundabout, sitting precariously under the arm of a digger and with the driver still sitting in the front seat.  I abandoned my car in a safe position, opened the car door and stepped out into brown sludge. Sludge and slippers do not mix. The roundabout was being landscaped and effectively a building site.  Between strides and falls I eventually reached the casualty.  Not only had she just experienced a traumatic event she was now faced with a rescuer who resembled a mud wrestler.    

I  gave my witness statement to the PSNI (local police) whilst trying to stand upright, my delicate slippers now  resembled two old orthopaedic brown shoes. Needless to say my poor little slippers that night were sent to slipper heaven and I survived the next year wearing a complimentary pair from a posh hotel.  


So meet my new slippers, bought to me for Christmas.  A winter pair and a summer pair chosen by my children.