Turns out I was fine. And they did have the catmilk.
Took the red shoes to Luton hospital today.
Was glad to take them off when I got home, blisters on the soles of my feet.
That's the ache I remember, the reason I used to end up dancing and walking home barefoot, or getting a piggyback from an obliging young lad. I lost a boot in a nightclub that way. We were staying on a boat, so we got a taxi to the marina and I was carried onboard like a new bride. And no, I didn't sleep with him.
I just need to wear the red shoes and alternate silver stilettoes out of the house and stand in them for a while. I'll build up immunity. The wedges I will continue to practice in. Just not outside. Look, people learn to walk on stilts and millions of women wear heels as high as the ones I am acclimatising as everyday footwear (not the glitter wedges I admit, but catwalk model wear shoes just as silly.)
Anyway three women said they loved my shoes. It was the mile walking home after having them on for 6 hours that was the eye-roller. Like this
