Fashion blog

I used to be blonde.

Ann age four.  Butter wouldn’t melt. Much.

But now I rely on bleach to give the effect of blondeness.  That and my general blonde behaviour.  This morning is a case in point.

Today was the first day back at work after a little half term holiday and I was not in the best of moods.  I’d say I was feeling sharp, not in the well-dressed sense of the word, more in the “come near me and I’ll cut you” sense of the word.

I needed clothes to match so the trouser suit called to me from the wardrobe and so did my evil boots (one of several pairs).

So, sharply dressed, I left the house sharply and got to work sharply.  Half and hour early for work, which was good because I knew there would be an e-mail mountain waiting for me.

I got into the lift with someone I recognised but didn’t know.  That happens a lot at work when you’ve worked for the same company for 19 years.  As we reached the fifth floor he turned and asked “Are you feeling a bit tired this morning?” and I thought “I barely know you.  Damn cheek.” but replied “Yes a little, first day back after a week away.”

He then looked at my feet and my gaze followed his.  And this is what I saw.

I know they’re both black boots, but I’m not quite sure how this happened.  I got dressed while daylight was streaming in through the windows.  I have no excuse, so I’m blaming the bleach, or my four year old blonde self.

I drove home, rectified the situation and made it to my desk by 8:30.  The e-mail mountain could wait.  There was no way I could continue the day with odd boots.