Here you are. You asked. Here are my golden shoes:
As you can see, they are a style known as 'Mary Jane'. I suppressed this fact yesterday because in principle I despise Mary Jane shoes. 'Oh look at me, I'm Looby-Loo! I'm kookie and I affect to walk slightly knock-kneed whilst sucking a finger and looking cute!' This is what Mary Jane shoes are lisping. Especially if they are a bit Fair Trade-y. This pair is obviously saying nothing of the kind. What are they saying? (Apart from 'Look at me! I was £5 in the Office sale because nobody wanted me!') I think they are saying 'What's the use of worrying or feeling blue?'
Anyway, that was yesterday. Today I'm in my black boots, skinny jeans and big pink cardie-coat. I will not detain you with repeated descriptions. These are old friends. Instead I will tell you about my Big Coat. Everyone should have a Big Coat. A Big Coat has to be big enough to go over all the many layers required for an early start on a cold morning, such as today. I had to catch the 8.02 train in order to get to Stoke-on-Trent in time to teach my 10am creative writing class. I taught them how to do Crap Dialogue (see earlier post for details).
My Big Coat was made for me many years ago by Pat the Midwife. (She can make anything, even Pikachu outfits for small boys.) It's ankle length, unstructured, made of nearly black fake Astrakhan fleece, with a huge shawl style dark grey leopard print fur collar. It falls in the same category as the golden shoes: it always gets comments. If I tell you that someone once said I looked like a boxing manager in it, you'll have the right mental image. It is the sort of thing you wear if you believe you are tremendously stylish. If you walk with a swagger there's always a chance that you'll pull it off and everyone will believe you. There's also a chance they'll just think you're bonkers, however. Happily, if you are a writer there's a lot of leeway. You might conceivably be both tremendously stylish and bonkers. Who's to say?
About this blog
This is a window into the weird world of Anglicanism, as experienced on a Cathedral Close. Has anything much happened since Trollope's Barchester Chronicles? You will still see the 'canon in residence' hurrying across to choral Evensong, robes flapping, as the late bell chimes. But look carefully and you will notice he is checking the football score on his iPhone as he runs. This is also a writer's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the novelist's life. And it's a fighter's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the judo mat. Well, the agony, anyway.