You remember that last Thursday I gave our cleaner, Rashad, a pair of my rather expensive 'Timberland' sandals. That's fine, and as I remarked at the time, 'Why should my friend go barefoot, while I've got two pairs of sandals?', or words to that effect.
You'll never guess what happened next! In fact, as friend Littlejohn (of various newspapers fame) would say 'You couldn't make it up!'
On Saturday, we got a call from a friend (who also lives in Luxor) to arrange to come and visit us on Sunday evening, bearing a gift. (?????) I knew you wouldn't believe it without a picture; it was another pair of sandals!
And not just any old sandals, Clarks 50 or 60 quiddish sandals! Apparently, the friend had been given them, but had no real use for them, so passed them on. Very nice, eh?
I suppose that they're the modern-day equivalent of what we knew as 'Jesus sandals' in our youth, obviously greatly updated. They're now made to look like the 'sexy' bondage type of thing which Lara Croft might wear; all straps and adjustable Velcro, plastic clips replacing old fashioned buckles, with tractor-like grips to give a firm footing whilst racing about unstable terrain. (Or conversely, looking like they have been specially designed for the physically and mentally challenged!)
I'm currently wearing them in the house, just to see if I can get used to them. It's funny having all this fashionable (but rough) mix of fabric and leather, and the odd bit of Velcro, next to the beautifully tender skin of my pampered feet. I committed a real faux-pas when I suggested that they would be fine with a pair of my long H J Hall stockings under them! (I haven't dared to mention that again!) (I'll have that Scotchie woman on my back next, for even contemplating it!)
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