Flip flops are the only things I’m going to put on my feet today. I’ve done a yoga class. Side crow as a peak pose in my living room was pretty satisfying. Best thing is that I’m sure my instructor couldn’t see how rubbish it was 😊.
What is everyone up to today?
Me – I’m in the garden. My toes are getting some sun. My 🎧 are on and I am loving today. If you have any great music to recommend send it my way. I’m not moving from here unless it is to dance around the garden with a wine 🍾.
Tomorrow – it never comes so I’ll just be focusing on today, toes, tanning and temptation…(it was the only other t I could thing of!).
I shrunk my flip flops. I wasn’t even going to wear them today as its not sunny in Edinburgh. Apparently it is to be lovely later but I am off to Glasgow for a lunch. Anyway – I digress. I actually shrunk my favourite flip flops. Gutted!
The events that led to this catastrophe
I was in the garden on Tuesday. Such a nice day and so we (a couple of neighbours and myself) had a bottle of wine. Sitting under the sun umbrella my feet were peeking out into the summer sun; I really do like my feet when they have a summer glow.
Then from nowhere there was an eerie shadow that passed overhead. Odd given there were no clouds in the sky and the warmth of the sun (and the wine) was making everyone rather cheery. I looked down. I looked at my toes. Realisation hit. There was a splurge of dark slimy stuff on my pinky toe and, oh hell, my favourite flip flops. I screamed (to be fair I thought initially it was a slug!). My neighbours’ (they are meant to be friends) reacted. That was until they, and I, figured out that the slimy stuff must be bird poo.
They say (whoever they are) it is lucky for a bird to poo on you. I didn’t feel lucky. Toes were quickly soaked under the garden tap. Neighbours were quickly descending into hysteria. In my state of shock there was only one thing I could do. Laugh.
Don’t ever put your flip flops on a wash dry cycle
My flip flops, did I mention they were my favourite, required immediate attention. I ran inside and emptied my washing machine (washer dryer to be exact which is honestly a godsend in Edinburgh due to the changeable weather). In went the flip flops. I have washed them before so didn’t think anything would go awry. Stupidly I picked the quick wash dry cycle. This was probably in the hope that I didn’t need to wear my alternative flip flops, which are much less sparkly and less comfortable, for too long.
The wine took over. We laughed about the situation. I forgot all about the flip flops. Until this morning. Jumping up and out of bed early I retrieved them to wander through to my kitchen for coffee.
Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh! My flip flops have shrunk. How did that even happen? Why would rubber shrink? Why would I think it wouldn’t shrink? Why does this remind me of the time I put haggis in the microwave and it exploded? Why didn’t I think about the consequences?
Dealing with the consequences
I am now sat on the train to Glasgow trying to write this blog. I am also intermittently searching rocket dog and amazon to find replacement flip flops. When you have a favourite you want the exact same ones. Why is it you can never find the exact same ones?!!! This also happened with my Dune loafers recently (my favourite loafers). I bought a different pair but they are not the same. My amazon search (rocket dog flip flops) will take a while (I may sneak a look over lunch). The ones below are the black version of the white ones I have. If all else fails with my search I may have to go with them. If anything, these flip flops are generally the most comfy I have found. I would just like them to look as nice as the ones that are currently bordering on a size too small after that bloody bird sh** on them.
I share a communal garden in the midst of Edinburgh. It feels like the countryside though. If you go out the front door of the old Edinburgh style tenement there is a busy road. Out the back backdoor, however, the garden is only overlooked by a hill full of greenery. The birds are singing, the fox cubs are playing (and generally trying to steal anything of interest), the squirrels are chasing each other and the traffic feels like a mile away; although sometimes we hear the blast of a train horn coming into Waverley.
Like a lot of Edinburgh flats the ceilings are high, the stairways cool and the gardens are shared. Ours is only used regularly by 4 flats; me included. We are a quirky bunch and all very different but we socialise, bbq, drink wine / beer, sing and play along on whatever instrument makes an appearance. The summer months will always find one or more of us sharing the space. Sometimes we chat, laugh and generally have fun; sometimes we grab our own little corner and read.
It’s a hotchpot of a garden. An old picnic table and bench, some chairs scattered round and a corner bench made of sleepers offer plenty of areas to sit in. We have a pond, thankfully some grass to lie on in the sun, trees, walls, and a mix of plants, flowers and veg patches. Rustic and unorganised would be an apt description.
We keep the garden maintained which takes a lot of work but no one is too fussy about having an overly structured space. This thankfully avoids arguments but on occasion we all fall out about something or other. It doesn’t last long; it would be awkward if it did as how else would we all get fed (the bbq is an essential cooking space for summer dinners…even some winter ones).
They are currently in full bloom with more to come. My absolute favourite is the Californian poppies (my neighbour planted them) but there are great flowers in every corner of the garden. I took some photos today of a range. I haven’t a clue what they are all called but I’m sure one of the neighbours will.
Apart from my neighbours and myself…we are really proud of all the wildlife in such an urban environment. The foxes all get names. Even the unusually coloured pigeon (a white one) has one. The squirrels don’t get names due to the fact they annoyingly dig up any tasty looking bulb we try and plant in spring. They occasionally have a stampede through my raised beds but I haven’t lost any vegetables yet. The cheeky fox cub does like to steal garden aids. Yesterday I saw him running out of his secret bolt hole (not too secret) with my foam garden mat. Cheeky little thing. I chased him and triumphantly got it back. He admitted defeat and sat next to me for a bit whilst I soaked up the last of the sun with a glass of wine.
The flowers, the wildlife and my vegetable patch are a little slice of serenity in the midst of the city. I have a few days off from work. I am praying for the sun to be out. But even if it isn’t, I will be out, in the garden, pottering and taking a break from the grind of a busy forty something life.