My Right Foot
Dig if you will the picture .... of me walking along outside my local markets. It is a Sunday morning and I was not able to get the markets on Saturday due to other pressing commitments, so I stroll along to visit the (admittedly limited) stalls open on a Sunday.
The street is empty and a parking spot is easy to come by. I hop out of the car and casually walk towards the entrance. SPLAT!!! Out of nowhere my shoe is suddenly filled with water. Manky, smelly water. I'm not kidding. It's as if an elf suddenly appeared and tipped a mug of water into my shoe. But no one is around. And it's only my right shoe. One shoe. Nothing else is wet.
Now I'm starting to wonder if I'm going crazy, but hey, there are a couple of splashes on the pavement. Not a puddle or anything, but the spillover from the water that wound up in my shoe. The stinky water which smells like it was left in a flower vase for about a thousand years. There is a guy watering plants outside the flower stall, but he's at least 10 metres away.
I peer at the ground. I step gingerly over the splashes. The ground moves, slightly. Ah ha! There are six loose paving stones and the plant water has run into there and splashed up when I hit an edge of the loose stone with my foot. My very smelly foot.
What could I do? I wandered up to the Essential Ingredient and looked at the cookbooks. Expensive French hardbacks tend to soothe me. And then I bought a cheap cutting board to feel better. And some dried Tasmanian cherries. And this.
And I still haven't worn the stupid shoe again.