The boots I have been looking for all my life turned up the other day. They were in a little shop round the corner from my house, which goes to show that what we are seeking is often right under our nose. I had not gone out looking. I had just popped into the shop to browse and there they were, standing casually by the door. Tan, knee high, a slight western feel, perfect in every way. Except for one. Why is it that when you find the thing your heart desires most it beckons to you with the allure of being meant for you then announces that it is not available? ‘We only have that boot in a size three or seven,’ the ice-cold sales assistant declared.
I am officially a four but sometimes a three.
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