Saturday, 1 June 2013

Plates of meat...

feet... mine to be precise.
I'm a broad broad.
Short and stout,
with hands and feet to match.
All my life, my wide feet have stood me in good stead!
All my life I've wished for the sort that
slip into strappy, tarty sandals to totter in.

not mine, I'm afraid!

In the Clarks shoe shop as a kid, additional
tape was required to measure up to
FFFFF'ing F...
double F, treble F.
I wouldn't mind, but I can never pass a pond 
without ducks
giving me admiring glances.

I've had an action-packed, physically hard-working
peat digging, farming, cooking, walking, standing.
My tootsies have never let me down.
Without a corn, or crumpled toe, I ought to
say my feet don't look half bad... passable.
In the summer I apply gold nail polish, by way
of vanity.  With each brush stroke I dream...
alright... the impossible dream.

A couple of years ago at work, I met a lovely guy,
all legit. happily married, met the wife and kids.
Me being me, slow on the uptake, had not a suspicion of his feelings.
Alright I know I'm OTT and say the most outrageous things.
Friends, know that's how I am.
'All in the best possible taste!'... sometimes not?
During the course of our work, out and about,
over coffee, he declared his love...
of my feet.
The coffee shop wall was pebble-dashed with
cappuccino as I spluttered.
To say I was lost for words...
a state not usually attributed to me...
was the size of it... quadruple F!

What do you say?
We never did work together again, I always found an excuse.
I was off as fast as my size 6 footsies
could carry me.

If they had been feet of beauty,
instead of feet of clay, 
I could have under'stood' it!

There's some funny folk about.

Teddy behind the FT studying the Footsie and Bunions-A-Go-Go



  1. I long ago gave up buying shoes. I buy the boxes instead - they fit perfectly.

  2. Good idea Elaine, tied on with baler twine they could at a push be classed... strappy.


  3. I used to work in a shop and go to the local library at lunchtime to furtively eat my sandwiches. I returned from lunch to the shop one day and the phone rang. I gave the name of the shop and a male voice asked if I was the lady who had just been in the library. My mind ran riot thinking it was a complaint about leaving my garlic sausage scented foil wrapping in their bin, but no, it was a man whispering that he really liked my shoes.............. I went silent and he said "No, I REALLY liked your shoes". I just squeaked that they wouldn't fit him and put the phone down. However, it really shook me up, the fact that it was someone who must have known me and where I worked OR it was a stranger who had followed me back to the shop.

    I wish I could still wear pretty shoes but my feet have spread and I seem to spend my life in Crocs.

    1. I'm so pleased you're still here, I looked up your blog only yesterday to see it removed. You okay?

      Good story, thanks for sharing it with us. It is a very odd feeling, especially if you've got blimming awful feet like mine.

      Nowt so queer as folks as they say in Yorkshire.


  4. I'm fine, thank you. Just decided there was too much of me out there...............

    Fascinated by your new header, somehow the address rang a bell and when I looked in our address book I realised that I have been fairly regularly to a house in that same street: my other half's daughter lived at number23 for a few years!

  5. Well what a coincidence. It really is a small world.

    The book of Tennyson poems and the letter was sent to my grandmother from my grandfather on the eve of their wedding. I found them a while ago in with the old family photo's. I wrote a post about it, can't remember when though?

    Yes, I sometimes get the feeling I'll knock it on the head. I keep telling myself I'm doing this for me. The trouble is I'm too idle to write a diary, so this is it. One day when I'm dead and gone perhaps the family will read and think... she really was as daft as we thought. By which time I'll be past caring. Added to which I don't do facebook or tweet, I do cluck a lot though!


  6. My similarly solid plates of meat have also been reliable until recently when a couple of knobbley arthritic knuckles have started to show. I still managed 6 hours of tramping around a showfield, buying antiques today, so I'm hoping there's still a few years wear left in them!

  7. You can't keep a goodun down Nilly.