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Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Crocodile tears

Regular readers will know I am not a girly girl.  I have no great love for pink, glittery things, and a somewhat abject hatred of clothes shopping.

But the thing I detest most of all?  Shoes.  Especially new shoes.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I can admire them, sitting there in the shop like a gleaming work of art.  I get that.  What I don't get is why the buggery bollocks I would want to put them on my feet and balance improbably like a dog on stilts.

And let's be honest, most "stylish" shoes hurt.  I mean really hurt.  Anyone who says that they feel more comfortable in heels than flats is either mental or lying.  Or both.

Being on maternity leave has been brilliant as I have literally worn three pairs of shoes, depending on the weather:

- Cold weather = UGGs
- Intermediate weather = trainers
- Warm weather - Crocs

With an actual, real-life summer happening at the moment, Crocs have been my staple.  I love my Crocs.  I bought them in Singapore in 2007, and they don't even look like Crocs.  Just a lovely pair of sandals, but comfortable like walking on clouds.  And because they're rubber, you can wear them on the beach, in the rain and I love them.  Love them, love them, love them.

So yesterday I was in the garden with the baby, wearing the Crocs.  (I was wearing the Crocs.  The baby had bare feet).  The baby was eating her lunch, so I went to sit with her on the grass, and kicked off the Crocs.  I could do that, because they are so easy to put on and off.  Whee!
Me and the Crocs in happier times

Anyway - believe it or not, the baby managed to entirely dress herself in yoghurt; rather than put my shoes back on, I just picked her up and came back into the house to hose her down.  So far, so routine.

Last night when TheBloke (TM) got home from work, he said to me, "Your Crocs are outside if you are looking for them."  I meant to go and get them, I really did.  But I didn't.  And I doubted it was going to rain - and even if it did, the Crocs would have been fine.  That's how good they are.

But this morning at 5 a.m. (because that's when our days start these days), as I was spooning porridge roughly towards the baby, I noticed the Crocs were gone!

I knew immediately what had happened to them.  Roving burglars?  Nope.  Jealous neighbour?  Well, she's 89 years old and not very likely to pole-vault our 11 foot hedge.

A fox stole my Crocs.

We have had foxes in the garden ever since we moved here - and this year we see them almost every morning.  Young ones, mostly, playing with any toys we leave out (such as footballs) and eating up any scraps that the baby leaves on the lawn.

But come on.  Both of my Crocs?  Bad foxes.  I am planning on sending TheBloke (TM) into their lair tonight to see if we can get them returned.

I feel like I'm writing a Dr Seuss book.

The naughty foxes
They stole my Crocses
A naughty fox
Hid them in a box
A box with locks
Just like Fort Knox
My poor Crocs!

I'm swiftly changing my opinion on fox hunting.

2 comments:

blog off said...

You're the second person in two days to have lost crocs due to a fox! They've obviously got something in them the creatures like :-)

Laura said...

Maybe it was the same fox and he wanted one for each of his feet, thus needing two pairs.

Makes sense.

L x