Today's blog entry is supposed to be about Boots. Perhaps you had already worked that out. But I can tell that The Blog Really wants it to be about my meetings with Mr. Ex-Middleaged.
You see, The Blog, or should I just call it ( is 'It' a 'Her' perhaps?) 'Della', has a Mind of Her Own. But sadly, for Her, I'm In Charge.
'Della' is the Ventriloquist's Doll & I'm The Ventriloquist.
Now that we've got that straight, I may as well give you a little soupcon (don't you just love my Franglais?) of these meetings. And then I'll get on to The Boots.
Actually, there's only been two. Meetings, I mean, not Boots.
Number 1: We met last friday in a tiny cafe for about twenty-five minutes max. That's all the time he had to spare because he had to rush off to the doctor's to be checked out for Pig Flu because he flys to Washington tomorrow, which I believe is The Official Home of Pig Flu. Then when he gets back, he has to revisit the Doctor & have a blood test to see if he caught it there & wait for the results before he can go back to work.
Number 2: Dinner last night at a v. expensive but empty hugely fashionable two-hatted restaurant where we were served plates of miniature food with overpowering flavours like grated eggplant with a bucket of turmeric thrown on it & small slabs of silken tofu with little threads of salmon inside. And glasses of Italian Rose that I swear tasted like 'Ribena' or Blackcurrent Juice for kiddies.
As I type, I feel as if I'm Blaspheming. How dare I say such things about this Sacred Restaurant which I Won't Name but would simply love to. Maybe I'm just a Food Cretin, although that's 'Way Harsh'. Perhaps Food Naif.
Anyway, we managed to keep talking throughout the meal which I thought was a Monumental Achievement. I did not cry. In fact, here's The Thing: I've become as hard as nails & find it hard to cry now which is in stark contrast to how I used to be. Maybe it's the Male Hormones that I've been intravenously injecting. And He never used to cry except at Movies & maybe at the end of the last episode of 'Seinfeld'. Now he cries. In public. In cafes. Last night I only caught him brushing away a tear or two. Meanwhile, I was sitting up Dry Eyed & Bushy Tailed.
Now I'll talk about Boots.
But it's almost my bedtime & I couldn't be really that bothered now.
So here's the Executive Summary: Today I drew a Boot on the whiteboard when discussing 'Emma' & 'Clueless. Perhaps it reflects my current good fortune in finding many pairs of boots at my Magical Thrift Shop.
I'm showing off three of them in the photos.
The young woman in one of the photos was mine & Trixie Drew's Fab Student Teacher who was with us until last friday.
Yesterday, Ernestina in my staff room came to school with one black boot & one brown boot.It was Not a Conscious Style Decision. In fact, Ernestina didn't notice the error until her Year 12 class tactfully pointed it out to her. Luckily, Princess Pip came to her rescue & provided an alternative.