Ok.
This post is nothing to do with kissing (or lack of) or preparation for my next piece of work or anything really significant.
I remember that my first blog was just humourous observations of my life and the random things I find amusing that others either miss, ignore or choose to find not funny.
Well, anyway. Two shoes. Current and topical if one subscribes to X-Factor and witnessed two endearing gals from Essex who were the very epitome of their county. But these are not the Two Shoes to which I refer.
Upon leaving work this evening, a colleague pointed out a pair of Ugg-like boots abandoned on the ramped access to the building. "What are your thoughts as to why they are there?" he asked.
Not your average comment from anyone let alone a busy, young gent accompanying his pretty, pregnant girlfriend to the motor.
I observed the floppy boots. They were in fair condition so suffice to say the owner hadn't just discarded them in embarrassment or discomfort. They were also in a pair, touching each other, almost hopeful that if they stayed together they had more chance of being reunited with their owner. They looked a little scared.
Perhaps their owner had been plucked in an upwards motion, lifted out of them and they fell off skinny legs being that they were a little bit baggy after a few months of solid wear. A tall, athletic and obviously devilishly handsome chap had literally whisked her off of her feet. Or aliens had abducted her. Or...I haven't yet established another or.
Anyway, back to the oddity of Two Shoes.
The young gent, Josh, who remarked about Two Shoes and I were in conversation with another colleague, Harry, about One Shoe the previous week. I have no idea how or who started the conversation but I was amazed that inebriated girls who were too, erm, inebriated to totter any further in their heels were the main focus of random, single shoes.
"But what about on motorways? How often have you seen just a single shoe in the central reservation?" Nods and Hmms. "Also gutters. Lots of single shoes in gutters....usually paint-splattered."
I shared with the gents that possibly the motorway-kill footware could be due to being unwittingly placed on a parcel shelf with the rear windows opened and well, a slight wiggle on the steering wheel and it was over in an instant.
As for the gutter-snipe discards, my musings led me to sharing that it could be a painter and decorator who didn't wish to spoil good shoes and hadn't realised that One Shoe had set for freedom on his run to the station/for the bus/pissed from six pints after work.
And then I volunteered my own close brush with becoming the owner of half a pair of runners recently. It was as as I hurtled down a steep, longgg and busy hill to work. In my haste to cram gym-kit into my rucksack and into my basket before the dash to work, I hadn't squeezed, squashed and done battle with the zip enough to contain everything. As I free-wheeled faster and faster down the hill, overtaking stationary traffic and avoiding puddles (yes, rain) I noticed a reliable and loved running shoe on the verge of liberation. I forced the blighter back in as hard as I could but within seconds it was escaping further than before.
Under a train bridge. Dark and scary even with both hands steering but to prevent loss I could only leave my hand on One Shoe and hope that the traffic didn't start moving. Oh, Hells Teeth. A green light, a lorry too close to the kerb and a sticky-outy tree.
Brake! Abort! Save yourself!! There's plenty more running shoes in plenty more stores...
I did get to work with Two Shoes but it was close.
I wonder if the Two abandoned Shoes will still be there tomorrow morning? I shall try and remember to post details.
Until next time,
Amanda
