Shoes For Thought

Currently Loving: An art project that threw me back twelve years to the films I watched as a small child. I now have the soundtrack of the Swan Princess and Thumbelina to accompany Anastasia and The Silver Brumby on my MP3 Player.

Another insomnia-filled night. I suppose I'm lucky I got four hours sleep. I don't need this now, but I guess it's better than having it in exam time.
Unfortunately I doubt it's one or the other.



Backpacking. To Marks and Spencer. On a Sunday afternoon. In the snow...
With a basset hound.
Nice.
Apparently, however, this kind of behaviour is not as exclusive to the Seller family as was first thought. While I sat outside M&S in increasing YouthOfToday fashion (twisted around a trolley barricade refusing to move for anyone) tugging a embarrassingly nosey hound out of the way of cars crawling along at about two miles an hour, I saw numerous brave souls in varying degrees of personifying the phrase Death Warmed Up trudging towards the collective beacon that was the tiny shop.
Then everyone seemed to freeze. More than we already were (British Spring? Are you kidding?)
A woman in a black skirt and suit jacket was walking across the car park. Her hair was immaculate, as was her makeup and posture. What set her apart however was that, while everybody in the vicinity (including the floor staff and management) was wearing either walking boots and hiking socks or wellies protruding over layered legs, this woman was wearing golden pumps with black lace stitched around the top. There was a single intake of breath from every backpacker and weatherbraver as they stared at this lunatic prancing past with snow on her feet and no a care in the world.
Again, this says so much for our community spirit. We do not meet other eyes. We certainly don't speak to one another. But if there is a break in the norm or a particularly outspoken rebellion and were there with our hisses and our stares.
English nature at its best.