How do you feel about feet? Not many people like feet; even fewer actually enjoy them. Here are my feet:
I am thoroughly regretting not packing casual sneakers that can be worn, with socks, to walk around the streets. I like to walk when I’m on holidays; I’m not so keen on public transport, especially when that public transport is underground, meaning it’s near impossible to get a sense of where you are or what’s around the place. I packed four pairs of shoes: boots (too hot to wear them!); purple rubbery shoes which are my fail-safe at home, but are too tight here thanks to swollen feet; slip-on Puma flats that destroyed my heels the other day; and thongs. So thongs it is. My feet are filthy and I feel like an absolute grub… no one wears thongs in London, for a good reason.
This morning I headed out with the plan to buy some macarons from Laduree at Harrods. I walked the distance – about a 2.5k trip from my hotel to Knightsbridge, so nothing huge – but as I neared the famously expensive department store, I realised that the equivalent of au$7 for a little almond cookie the size of a 50c coin might be a bit extravagent. By this stage, I was hungry, grumpy, and sore-footed… so I headed back towards my hotel for a spot of breakfast and a lie down, because I’m boring like that.
The macaron mission is not completely over; there are a couple more places I am going to try before I decide that macarons are simply out of my reach. In the mean time, I’m off to wash my feet.
