A floral touch, a decent heel and a peep toe . . . My shoes shared some of these features but were a little more subtle!-mrsraggle- / Foter.com / CC BY-ND

I’ve been thinking, shopping and dreaming shoes for the last few weeks.  I had a family wedding to go to and really wanted to look my best.  I found a dress and flouncy scarf ages ago but I had no suitable shoes.  So began my greatest fashion challenge, since, well . . . probably my own wedding!

It’s very tiring shopping for shoes.  You need to make sure you own a comfy pair before you even start!  Pavement pounding is enevitable as you cannot buy shoes over the Internet.  They have to be tried on.  They have to be walked in.  Even then, you can so easily make the wrong choice!

Shoes also require headwork.  I had mine perfectly imagined.  They had to be elegant, with a heel high enough to flatter, (not to totter)!  They needed to compliment, not take away from my outfit.  Most importantly, I had to be able to walk and dance in them.

Well, I’m happy to report that my shoes ticked all those boxes, plus, one I hadn’t even thought of – sparkly!  They are princesses among shoes . . . not queens, that title belongs to the shoes I wore as a bride, three years ago.  I might add those shoes have since disappeared, (and I thought shoe heaven only existed in my mind).  Anyway, the shoes did me proud.  They slipped off my heels a couple of times, but such incidents were minor as I suffered no squished toes, no blisters, not even a patch of rubbed skin.

Perhaps, my preoccupation with shoes and feet is an extension of my current writing obsession: the body.  I can’t remember exactly what sparked off the interest.  I have been reading some poetry by women and focused on the body, including Eloise Williams’ ‘My Body is Old Porridge’.  This poem is risky, slightly shocking and funny in parts.  It certainly leaves an impression.

I started to think about facial changes that occur as we age and the effect time has on key relationships.  I’ve written a poem based on these thoughts and I’m quite happy with it, except for one line.  I often find that when writing poetry.  If it’s not one line, then it’s one word that doesn’t quite fit.  I agonise over it for days, weeks, years . . . Does anyone else experience the same questioning and unsatisfactory tweaking?

Sometimes, it helps to leave the poem aside for a few days, go outside for a bit, get distracted by nature.  Following my wedding adventure, (not to mention, shoe dilemma), I’m taking a while to get back into my usual working routine.  This morning, I went into town to run a few errands and took some time out to relax by the river.  I caught sight of a few brown trout of varying shapes and sizes.  I also spotted what I think may have been a salmon, his body was longer, more silvery in colour than his companions.  I must have a look online for a photo.  Meanwhile, I have some poetry requiring a subtle edit, the odd internal scream . . . Send help, quick!