Recently, I decided to hang up my high heels, due to concerns over breaking my ankles or something. I'm not very good on high heels anymore, used to be shit-hot but then I married someone with short-man-syndrome and the stillettos had to go :( Rekindled my relationship with them after I got rid of the shortie, but it wasn't the same, as my ankle always hurt (war wound) and they seemed wobbly. Unsturdy. Maybe a bit scary; it was always a bit tense going out in them as I was always worried about the heel coming off or falling over, with some git quipping, "have a nice trip?". Yes, fuck off.
Anyway, heels were retired and boxed up, ready for eBay, when I tripped over a boot. Not a heeled boot, mind, but the flattest one I had, like the one in the piccie. A shite boot. Landed on my toe, it made an unpleasant noise and now I can't walk properly. So I'm sulking and blogging about it, cos I can't do a lot else at the moment :( Isn't irony fun?