Shoe Shopping

On Sunday afternoon, I trotted into Sloane Square with my best friend Liza in search of a caffeine hit from a cup of coffee at Patiserie Valerie. Starbucks at Sainsbury's in Dulwich has closed for six months, and I can't get a parking space anywhere close to Lordship Lane for my enormous Chelsea Tractor. Cafe Rouge is virtually on my doorstep and therefor no real fun at all. The children would surely spot me while out and about with the au pair.

I poured my heart out to Liza and explained that I am devastated at the loss of our dream home, and have not yet had five minutes on my own to morn properly. James gets so offended if I tell him that I am feeling sad as a result of the sale falling though, I don't hold him accountable, it is just one of those things, I know.

The answer to everything as far as Liza is concerned is the purchase of a stunning pair of new shoes. Currently Liza's hot preference is for three and a half inch block heels with 'toe cleavage'. As a mother of 2, almost 38 years old (again) and unwilling to show any other kind of cleavage in public, it appeared to be the ideal solution.

A pair of sexy heels displaying an appropriate amount of 'toe cleavage' was purchased for an exorbitant sum at Emma Hope. I caught the train to West Dulwich from Victoria, with my enormous crispy bag perched on my lap - feeling as though the world was literally at my feet. Thank the Lord for Sunday shopping.

Liza said it was nice to see me restored to my good old superficial self. All is well. Equilibrium is restored.