As mentioned below, Cinnamoroll’s shoes / clothes deserved a post all of their own. In the 6+ months she has been with us, I have rarely seen her with the same outfit or pair of shoes. And I (and my much beloved gay work pal – who I have yet to devise an appropriate blog name for 2) really notice such things. She rarely has the same handbag either1. I like to imagine that she has a spare room lined with shelves and post-it notes with the date she last wore an outfit combination (that or a really comprehenive database of clothing combinations).

The day that she wore the shoes below, is one that will live on in legend. It is a truly awful picture, but given the conditions described, understandably so. The shoes were olive faux-crocodile, with a pointy toe and kitten heel and many wee straps and shiny-buckles, but then the pièce de résistance – what appeared to be pieces of womble skin affixed to the front of each. It was as though Cinnamoroll had given Great Uncle Bulgaria a good kicking and bits of him had remained attached to the shoe. I have never seen anything like it before or since.

A very poor quality photograph of Cinnamoroll’s most fabulous shoes – obtained by crawling under my desk with my old phone (fortunately it doesn’t have an automatic flash – I could have had some ‘splaining to do).

I truly do long for her to wear them again, but I may have to wait until October/November (and hope she buys no new clothes).

Tomorrow, I’ll introduce Don’s replacement (staggeringly quick replacement, given it usually takes around 6 months to find a sucker to come work with us).

1 I cannot even begin to imagine the sheer ghastliness of changing handbags every evening.


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