Conundrums, conundrums. I may or may not have a hot date tonight and I may or may not want to wear a pair of sexy heels. But what’s this? Oh no! Not a heel in sight! Only a mound of broken dreams. To clarify, it would appear that every pair of heels I own at this moment in time are variously: broken of heel, stained of suede, ripped of leather or crumbled of platform. Oh woe-is-I…how did this happen? My beautiful collections of pets, who helped me storm into meetings, strut across dancefloors, stride into shops and slide into dates. Now lying in a crumbled heap of dejection. Don’t get me wrong, I still love them. Dearly. But they are past-their-sell-by-date. And I, with my reckless confidence and unfettered loyalty, wore a shoe or two in this decayed state… and the consequences were not pretty. The wobbly heels brought on a sprained ankle, the dislodged platform induced a swarm of calluses.  After a string of accidents, I had to admit defeat. But it’s not only limited to my heels, even my flats are failing me now. Stubbed, scuffed, chafed, stained and slightly stinky, there is cause for a wholesale clear-out. I even had to dispose of my beloved nike runners and usher in a new pair of cons only a few months back. And now the cons are dying on me too. Time to clear? I can’t do that. These seemingly inanimate items are my friends, they’ve been with me through thick and thin; they deserve more respect. So indeed I shall build a shrine, or at least save them in boxes for future offspring. But still…I may have to go shoeless tonight…

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