S’elf’ish shopping

This is why I need parental controls for internet shopping. In my email I came across a spanking little elf outfit for cats or small dogs. It cost a couple of quid, free p&p and before you could say ‘disgruntled pussycat’ one was in the post.

I am not one to routinely dress the cat, but I had a brief moment of optimism here when I thought I might get some cute pictures for next year’s Christmas cards. Totally forgetting of course that cats will pretty much do what they want, and you can’t easily make them pose for any photo, let alone a shoot in good daylight, on a nice rug or cushion. Throw a bit of fancy dress in there and you are channelling Pollyanna big time. It is definitely more ‘carpe diem’ than Annie Leibovitz.

The outfit arrived on Saturday. It is just a hat and a collar with bells on. So, collar has to go on first or you will knock the hat off. Easy. The elf collar is elasticated and quite loose, so certainly not going to constrict in any way. I know that if you want to do something to a cat (flea it, worm it, medicate it, put it in a costume for you own entertainment) then it is best NOT to give chase, but bide your time. So, Riley (the cat) is dozing on the sofa. I had already let him sniff the hat and collar when they arrived so they were familiar. Pretty much any new item needs to be sniffed. Now I just gently popped the collar over his head. So far, so fancy! Then we went for the hat. I knew that the hat was aspirational (for me) and probably never going to work. I was not wrong. Nor was I quick enough to get a photo of the walking backwards (why do they think that will help?), or the rapid flurry of paws that speedily dislodged the offending headgear.

Maybe I will try the hat again. I will leave it lying around, see if he gets used to it. But I am not going to push it. His dignity must be considered!

I don’t think he liked the collar as such (judge for yourself from the following pictures), but he was ok with it and didn’t try to pull it off or run away. Maybe he just needs some time to earn his stripes!


Ah well, there’s always next year.


Random act of blogging

Most of my posts will be about card and paper, but every now and again it will be about whatever is on my mind. Right. That. Minute. It is a lovely sunny spring day outside, so my thoughts have turned to SHOES!!!!

I adore shoes. Shoes can convey messages. If work colleagues see me wearing red ones, they know things are not going well and I need cheering up. We call it a Red Shoes Day and anyone can have one, whether or not their footwear measures up. Shoes are conversation starters. Wear interesting ones and complete strangers will comment on them (nicely). Shoes are at their best in spring. Like asparagus. You aren’t risking life and limb by walking on icy surfaces in your highest of heels, yet no so hot that you have to worry about blisters from your first day without tights. There is colour and pattern, variation of heel height and shape on offer. Or at least there is if (here comes the rant) you are in the standard size range. Most of the women in my extended family – including me – are a (UK) size 3. Unfortunately so many of the shops in the UK start at a 4.

To make it worse, I only grew into adult sizes in my late 20s. Until then I had to either wear kids shoes (not an option) or make a trip to one shop in London that catered for us munchkins. Rather unkindly it also catered for ladies at the other end of the spectrum, in the same area of the shop, and in exactly the same styles. I felt so sorry for those who saw their size 9s next to my size 2s. It was an unkind comparison. The ONLY good thing about having small feet is that pretty much any shoe will look nice on.

Given that we all seem to shrink a bit as we get older, I reckon I have a small window of opportunity in adult footwear. In 10 years time I’ll be forced into wearing shoes with cartoon characters on them. The shoe shop in London no longer exists so I won’t even have the opportunity to go there and commune with my fellow deviants. So this is why, right now, I have a lot of pairs, and why I have been known to change them several times in a day, just for the sheer fun of it.

I got so fed up with going into shoe shops and asking if they had my choice in a 3, only to be told ‘no, but would you like to try a 5’? Well no, not really as I was not planning on wearing mountaineering socks inside my blush pink ballet pumps, but thanks anyway. Now I get pretty much every pair I own from a well-known high street store, because they have them in stock, they have them on the shelf, and I don’t have to ask and be disappointed. All of us who are at either end of ‘normal’ can run in, grab them and shuffle off to the till hoping not to be spotted or ‘outed’. It’s not like we are buying porn or anything….just shoes.

Come on high street, give us all a bit more choice!