Farewell

Farewell old friends

One of us needed a new pair of shoes apparently, so it was up to Celine to show us the rounds of the likely spots. Sadly for me the shop sold shoes for blokes as well, and it seems that suddenly two of us needed a new pair of shoes. I was told in no uncertain terms that my dear old Rockports were no longer suitable. Suitable for what exactly wasn't explained by either of my antagonists, but from the beginning arguments to resolve our divergent philosophies on that point were only going to have one outcome. To make the situation more grave, apparently new shoes demand new trousers and a belt to match.

After more than a decade, the old shoes were just about getting comfortable, and my jeans have only been worn night and day for a couple of years, but apparently in their absence I'll look my best at the Bank on Thursday evening.

I thought I'd give this looking my best thing a go tonight at the local theatre, taking it slowly at first, by wearing the new shoes, and I do have to admit that they provide a certain warmth, that some of the thin spots on the old ones lacked.

Theatre? Well yes actually, and bless them, it was a silent production, so we only had to translate the French mime routine, which as luck would have it seemed to have been written in English as we understood the whole thing.

The lead performer, if that's what the "man" in a one man show is called, wore a pair of pumps which bore a startling resemblance to my own nifty new footwear, a sure sign that I'm dressed "suitably" now I would have thought.

Perhaps I'll moonwalk home.