Reasons why Fran is getting cold feet (and that's not a cliche)
I never used to wear slippers. I'd always schlupped around in socks, going 'oof, oof' on the cold kitchen tiles in the winter. My husband would urge, 'Get yourself some slippers and stop oofing' and I'd look at him and say, 'I may have some parts of my body which have gone south in search of new adventures, and maybe I do watch 'Flog It' on my days off, but I am not yet old enough to wear slippers.'
Why did I think they were a sign that the End was Nigh? I don't know.
Two Christmases ago, not long after I became a Grandma and it seemed futile to hang on to my youth, in the same way it's futile for someone to cling hopefully on to a cliff edge who's got honey on their fingers, I decided it was time. I was in Marks & Spencer, thinking, 'But these all look like care home slippers' when, there they were: my destiny. Exactly like those in the picture above, they looked at me and said, 'Come on. You know you want to. We're not care-home slippers. We're cool. And how much longer can you go oof-oof on the kitchen tiles?'
Within days, I was a slave to them. Barely had I fallen inside the door at the end of the working day before I had tossed away my shoes, caring not where they landed, so I could nestle tired, I've-walked-down-forty-three-school-corridors-today feet into my size 7, fluffy black slippers.
The Anglo-Saxons, who couldn't be doing with boring nouns like 'slippers' and were very keen on using compound words called kennings in their poetry, would have called them foot-socks, or toe-houses, or feet-warmstorers or toe-cuddlers. (Any other ideas, followers?)
Alas, one cannot wear a pair of toe-cuddlers day in day out without having to face their demise at some point. I binned them at the end of January and have been waiting on the nice people at M & S to have my size in stock. I refuse to countenance any other sort. And on Saturday I can go to collect them.
Meanwhile, I've been back to oof-oofing on the kitchen tiles. I've tried wearing a pair of very thick socks but our steep stairs are wooden and slippery. As I still haven't watched a variety of classic films I need to catch up on, and I'd like to visit Dublin one day, and there are varieties of chocolate biscuits I haven't yet tried, I daren't risk mortal injury that way.
Saturday is going to be some moment, housing my toes once again. I may not leave the house for several weeks.
|Fran really had been wearing those slippers for far too long. Time for the chiropodist to call.|