whatho | Tonight I am mostly slashing Bomber and Wayne. But that's another post entirely.

It's great not having any shoes. It's a perfect excuse for never leaving the house again. Actually I'm hoping to have them semi-mended by Monday. And I'm fibbing when I say I don't have any shoes. I have sandals, which I don't want to wear in the winter, and walking boots, which are cumbersome and ought really to be saved for mountains, and my evil purple boots of bloody death, which are what I'm resorting to at present. I'm wondering if it's not a false economy though. I'm going to bankrupt myself on elastoplast.

I took my broken glasses to the optician yesterday (those boots'd fit fine, on balance, if I only had four toes) and the kindly mendy man replaced both nose-pads for free. Hurrah. I'm glad he did both of them because they'd gone a most unpleasant shade of green. I am assuming this has something to do with copper. Not that I'm constantly exuding a greenish goo.

Incidentally ... cheese, chocolate, Carter, Cranford, Christmas trees, cats, Clive/Tony, Cohen (Leonard), Chak de India and cake. Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake. Ten things I love beginning with C. Technically fifteen. If you want a letter in which to express your love, ask away.