Shoes and trews

Where I was working on Thursday. Some days I love my job! 

It's been a quiet week, and I'm hoping for a quiet long weekend too. I did think I'd found the perfect repro shoes, and bought them by mail order – sadly they're quite narrow, and don't suit my feet at all. I actually like my feet, they're short and chubby, not all horrid and bony, but it makes choosing summer shoes tricky as they're usually cut just below the widest part of my foot, and it looks as though I'm bursting out of them. So bah, the beautiful shoes are going back to their maker, and I'll probably be getting a pair of Hotter Rumba for summer. (I like Hotter, but I wish they'd make some retro shoes that weren't quite so bland.)

On Thursday I got to go to the Valley of the Rocks near Lynmouth to do some photography for work. It's a gorgeous part of the world and the day was lovely and sunny. The sea was the most amazing shade of aquamarine, and we could see Wales across the water. It did make me realise I need some new trousers, though: having worn through my beige tweed and bust the zip on the pinstripes (which were just ancient BHS polyester anyhow), I ended up wearing my shabby gardening trews.

I hate buying trousers. What I really fancy are some lightweight wide-legged ones, in a sort of 1930s beach pyjama style, but even if I could find them they'd be utterly wrong for scrambling up brambly banks and lying on bracken to get close-up photos. I might end up having to buy my first pair of jeans in two decades... but there are so many sorts (and they're all bloody ugly, I feel miserable just at the thought of owning a pair, let alone being seen in public in them). How on earth do people know what sort of jeans to buy? Seriously! Maybe I should buy myself some huntin'-shootin'-fishin' tweed ones from Bob Parratt.

But hey, First World Problems!