About a month ago, I tried using a variety of feminine wiles to get a bloke called Geoff to blog post for me. I tried persistence, I tried conniving, I tried crying, I tried pretending I was not that interested in his shoes, wearing a classic scent and wearing a soft top that showed off my neck and shoulders. He would not take the bait. As you may recall, that was the week that I ended up having to tie my my five year old son to a chair to get a blog post from him. I did give him ice cream afterwards.
Since then all my confidence in my female powers of persuasion have deserted me. This afternoon, completely, out of the blue I received an email from Geoff with this little gem attached.
So what has changed in a month? Is it the Christmas spirit (or spirits) or could it my wanton display of flesh have caused a short circuit in the Fender system? Who knows but I would savour this moment while it lasts. He tells me that he has retired from blogging. Unless of course, his readership figures exceed Rick Morton’s or Mia Freedman asks him to, whichever event occurs earlier.
These shoes, in the picture, are a pair of smart casual moccasins that I wear whenever I take my bride somewhere nice. Oh, wait ! Thanks to the GFC and Centrelink combining to reduce our circumstances, we rarely go anywhere, so they are still in pristine condition, despite having been bought in the last century, or even the one before that.
As our trips out of Chez Fender are mostly for medical appointments, or to Woolies, there hardly seems much of a need to get dressed up, therefore my uniform de rigeur consists of jeans, any shirt which will match, and a pair of old comfortable New Balance joggers, which have definitely seen better days. Rather like their owner, really.
I bought them from The Athlete’s Foot, which I though appropriate, given that I run 10 k’s every day, in my imagination anyway. The assistant sold me a pair of inner supports, which would ensure I walked with a fine upright posture. As I prefer to slouch, they only lasted a week. Besides, they’re more comfortable without them. In fact, they’re as comfortable as a pair of slippers but wearing them out of the shower, in my bathrobe, doesn’t seem right and is definitely NOT a good look, given my stud status.
So, the joggers continue to give good service, and there’s a shiny new pair in the wardrobe waiting to replace them, in ten years, or so.