Yesterday Mr K and I went crawling through heavy traffic to Ipswich accompanied by the gentle crooning of Metallica:
I was knitting in time to the beat. Rock on baby, keeping the faith! Yeah.
I'm doing something I swore I'd never do; knitting socks for MrK. He has sock wrecking heels made of granite. I swear he's part golem. His heels have +5 versus socks and wear down pumice stones. But he did that whole puppy dog eyed thing because I've never knitted him anything. So they're going to be his walking boot socks, only to be worn with cheap, crappy socks underneath. And I might force him to learn to darn.
We went to Ipswich to do a bit of shopping and pop in on the Ipswich pagan crew who were having a Pagan Heritage exhibition. It was lovely to see them all, there were some good squishy hugs from my Kindred and others. There were stories from my favourite storyteller too. And cake. Huzzah! Thoroughly good show chaps.
The shopping mostly involved shoes.
Shoe buying is a serious pain in the arse for me. I have size 3 feet. Well, actually I have European size 35 feet, which most UK suppliers would call 2 1/2. Most shoe shops interpretation of 'size 3' is EU36. And don't say 'can't you buy kids' shoes?'. It makes me want to poke people in the eye and tell them to fuck off. How many children's shoes have you seen that a grown woman would want to wear? Um.... yeah, exactly.
Fortunately Clarks 'size 3' is EU 35.5 which can be passable depending on the style. I've had to go on a sandal hunt recently as all my lovely flat sandals have started to give me back/ankle/knee pain. Unfortunately even Clarks often don't fully stock in size 3. As soon as I say 'can I try these in a 3?' I see the assistant get that glazed, apologetic look and they say 'I'll go and look' in a distinctly unhopeful tone of voice. BUT fourth shoe shop, second Clark's store I found the extra-mega-comfy sandals in the foreground. Thank the gods.
The shoes in the background were on a sale rail and begged to be rescued. They'll need insoles if I'm not wearing them with handknit socks, but hey, they're pretty (and a much better ox-blood red in real life than in the pic) and they'll rock with my Lanesplitter skirt once it's finished.
After all that MrK treated me to Pizza Express. He's a star.