Whatever that means
I’ve survived until now with no need for baffies but the wee office in the cold, dark store has a very cold floor that not even the bestest of cosy socks can compete with so to use it I’ve been wearing my clumpy outdoor shoes.
But what a soul-searching experience it is defining yourself in terms of slippers. I decided that I was more of a Grandpa Broon, quasi-institutional, shuffling old duffer type in need of full fluffy interior and round the ankle, semi-bootee comfort.
They arrived today, which was just as well seeing as between the wee car’s exhaust giving up a £400 ghost on the way to work, a lunchtime spent, err, I can’t remember what and straight back to collect the motor, part with the cash and head straight to the art school for the first night’s drawing, I’d nothing else to take representative photos of.