Bootylicious

Giant, cumbersome and uncompromising, my feet cause me problems wherever I go. Treading on toes, catching in automatic doors, heels overhanging elevator steps, they weave a path of destruction wherever they lead me. Once, I was lying down in a field at the Ashton Court Festival in Bristol and a toddler saw them, rose to the challenge, tried to step over them but, unfortunately, even though my appendages were flat on the grass, he tripped over them. Not surprising really as they came up to his knees.

When I was at school they were a great source of humour. One stormy day I was discussing with a group of "friends" how we were going to get home. One of my friends pointed at me and said,
"I'm stealing his shoe and using it as a canoe." As previously mentioned, the nickname "Canoe Foot" stuck.

I've always had trouble buying trainers and shoes. Even in the UK I end up going home with about my 10th choice after hours of trying unsuccessfully to cram my spoon-like toes into size 11s.

Here in Singers, as you can no doubt imagine, this problem is exacerbated by the fact that most people have comparatively small feet. Thinking about it, most people everywhere have comparatively small feet, but I'm sure you know what I mean. When I ask for a UK size 12 here, the assistant reacts in one of two ways. Either a look of alarm, almost akin to fear spreads across their face as they shake their head, or they roar with laughter as they shake their head.

Today I was trying on trainers. For once it was remarkably easy. The first pair I tried on fitted me perfectly. No amusement or horror on the face of the assistant. Ella joined me in the shop and shook her head. She informed me that they were a little bit feminine. I made the point that the very fact that they were size 12 made them unisex at the very least, but she was unconvinced and wandered off to find me a "better" pair. She came back with three pairs. Inevitably, I bought the ones she liked best which meant that I went home, yet again, with something other than my first choice. They are, though, extremely masculine (even though they said "unisex" on the label and the ones I'd chosen first didn't).

So, did I manage to buy footwear without any embarrassment or stress? Other than having Ella and a shop assistant laugh at my initial choice?

Of course I didn't.

Just as I was finishing putting my old footwear back on, three kids I teach (very pleasant and polite in the classroom) wandered into the shop. The first one saw me and said,
"Oh no! I don't know you!" The second remarked,
"I think I'm leaving now." The third took one look at the footwear I was putting back on and said sarcastically,
"Nice sandals."

They then scarpered.

They're not sandals. They're open-toed, open-heeled leisure shoettes with a velcro strap across the bridge of the foot.

I had much more trouble a few weeks ago buying shoes. I bought what appeared to be the only size 12 black leather shoes in the country. They are a little bit pointy at the toe and are buckle-up. As yet, no one's started calling me Robin Hood or D'Artagnan, but surely it's only a matter of time.

Cue comments.