a totally predictable shoe tragedy

Anyone could have told you it was going to happen. Briefly back in the UK to go to a wedding, I was congratulating myself on remembering to leave my wedding outfit gear at my parents. How forward thinking I told myself, not to hike the whole lot out to Bosnia only to bring it back again. And yes, there hanging up with the dress are an appropriate shawl for the inevitable freezing temperature, a suitable bag and, if I owned one, there would also be a hat. But, missing in action are a pair of suitable shoes. Now I am absolutely sure I left some here. I definitely haven't got any in Bosnia as I did, in an unusually organised move, check before we left. But there are none here now.

The only pair of shoes I have with me are some rather flowery, psychedelic trainers which look great with a pair of jeans but not good with a tasteful pretty frock. Alas, alack. It looks as if I must make the most of having a keen babysitter on hand (Granny) and apply myself to some emergency shoe shopping. Sometimes it is a tough life.

TRAGEDY (at least a tragedy the girls will understand)

So I did pack a black tie outfit (see June 21st post if that statement sounds ridiculous). At least not a full blown floor length gown but certainly something that could smarten up nicely. Just in case you understand. There I was feeling all smug when a cold realisation dawned. The shoes... the shoes... where are the shoes? Surely not? Oh yes, the shoes have gone to storage. And not only are they languishing in some metal box, they are right at the back, behind the other 70 odd boxes that are in there. I dare not ask D if we can go back and look for them. Instant death and/or divorce. No, shoeless I must bravely venture forth and hope for no invites to smart events.