Now, it’s not often you’ll hear me say something along the lines of my needing to eat my words, but goodness me, after this shopping trip, my words are very yummy indeed.
Let me explain.
There is a shop in Bromley called Hotter. They specialise in ‘comfy’ shoes that you wouldn’t be seen dead in (or so I thought). I won’t post a picture*, but I had weeping feet, literally, when providence guided me into Hotter. I sat down amongst the little old ladies and asked if I could have some shoes that weren’t too frumpy. The shop assistant, about my age, looked a little affronted about hearing her precious Hotter shoes described as ‘frumpy’, but obligingly fetched a few non-too-frumpy pairs of shoes.
MY LIFE HAS NOW SUDDENLY IMPROVED.
They weren’t frumpy or little old-ladyish! They were – wait for it – really nice! AND SO COMFY LIKE ZOMG. So that’s it. I’m a Hotter convert.
I could dance. In fact, in these shoes, I can!