Leopard Flats

Well I was set to post about all sorts of trivial things this week. The new Pope. The new head dude up in the space station. New revelations in the horse meat scandal. A visit to Sadler's Wells. The anticipated shape of Sunday night telly now that Dancing on Ice and the wonderful Mr Selfridge have taken their final bows.

And then these arrived.

They are my very first own-design Shoes of Prey shoes. Made especially for me.

I was beyond excited. Opening them was an experience in itself with layers of bows and paper lovingly swaddling my luscious leopard-print flats.

There was even a photo.

(Shoe afficionados - like Lil Chicky, who I hold entirely responsible for this new addiction after a small shoe showcase over Christmas - will know that this is to put on the outside of the shoe box so when all of your lovely leather, scrumptious suede and general foot-ish fabulousness are stacked up in your cupboard, you know exactly where to find the perfect pair.)

But I digress.

I love them. Really LOVE them.

I've always wanted a pair of leopard-print shoes. There's something immensely frivolous about animal print and the Shoes of Prey website is a veritable treasure trove of imagination and creativity and just plain desire.

They arrived on Tuesday. It's Friday night and I've worn them twice already.

Super comfy as they are, they come with a little bag of tricks - heel grips, gel inserts and the like - to ensure that you can create the perfect fit for your fetish feet. And a super lush shoe bag has helped my little leopard friends make the commute to the office this week in what has been some rather inclement (and unseasonably chilly) weather.

Not for them the travails of the chill and damp. Oh no.

Oh and by the way, if you are wondering about the potential perils of buying made-for-me shoes online, the Shoes of Prey returns policy is awesome. If your new arrivals don't make your soles sing and your heart beat a little faster, you can return them - up to 365 days later.  Yes that's right. A whole year. I couldn't believe it when I first placed my order.

But I don't think that will be necessary.

Because I love them.

Really love them.

A lot.

A Tiger's Tale...

I had a particularly challenging week last week so when I fled the office on Friday afternoon for a night at Sadler's Wells (more on this in a later post), it couldn't have been soon enough for me.

Upon reaching Kings Cross-St Pancras International station I was strolling down the concourse, mentally debating the merits of popping into Peyton and Byrne, wandering around Foyles for a bit or heading straight down to the tube when I saw this...

 ...a large orange tiger.

Having been assailed with much advertising about the 'movie epic' Life of Pi, I wondered fleetingly as I walked by whether this was an homage to Richard Parker.

But what made me stop was not the tiger but the bales of cans ready for recycling it was standing on. How strange you might be thinking but I work in the packaging industry, have been to an aluminium recycling centre and have seen what happens so I was pulled up short wondering what they were doing in the middle of St Pancras Station. Besides I didn't find out about the milk bottle thing until I walked around to the front of the display.

Speaking of the display, commissioned by Veolia Environment (they are one of the rubbish and recycling contractors here in the UK), it appears that it's all part of Tiger Tracks, a Save Wild Tigers initiative designed to raise awareness and funds for tigers in the wild. It is made entirely from recyclable materials found in Merseyside's household recycling bins. That'd be 300 milk bottles and over 58,000 cans that artist Faith Bebbington has reused and recycled to recreate this life-sized Bengal tiger.

And as I moved around to the front, inspired to take a few smartphone snaps, do you think anyone would stop their whizzing past to let me capture the moment? No...

This was the best I could manage...

Sorry peeps.

In the meantime, you can find out more about Save Wild Tigers by clicking here or by popping down to St Pancras International Station anytime during March for more tiger themed activities.

Otherwise efforts to save this noble animal from extinction could amount to nothing more than catching a tiger by the tail.

A Pinter...Pause

Last night I went to see Old Times with a couple of friends. The play follows a particular evening in the lives of married couple Kate and Deeley, an evening when Kate's old friend Anna comes to visit. It's 80 minutes long and stars Kristin Scott-Thomas, Rufus Sewell and Lia Williams so I was ready for enoyable evening.

Source: http://www.oldtimestheplay.com/

I did not factor in that it was a Harold Pinter play.

As we walked back across Leicester Square to the tube station and puzzled over what we'd seen, all I could say was 'I just don't get it'.

We debated what we thought it might mean - I had read somewhere that the two female characters actually represent two facets of the same woman's personality and the play explores Deeley's interactions with each. We compared notes on restlessness and boredom - both our own and of those around us throughout. We all agreed that it was well-acted but enjoyable? It was thought-provoking - definitely - but I was left feeling a bit 'so what' about it all - but not so much that I was sorry I had gone.

It wasn't until this sharing afterwards that it occurred to me that this had happened before.

I saw my first Pinter - Betrayal - back when I was living in Melbourne. And then it was Old Times last night. A Pinter pas-de-deux so to speak.

And I realised that both times I'd felt the same...incomplete-ness. A kind of bereft-ness, like I'd been on the outskirts of a conversation that I didn't quite understand and had then been cut loose and left to drift away.

I'm not averse to a challenge but after a couple of similar experiences, I'm starting to think that perhaps Pinter's just not for me.

Or maybe it's just that I need another Pinter Pause...

Horses**t...

If you haven't heard about the latest scandal here in the UK, you've probably been either living under a rock or cryogenically frozen for the last six weeks.

The discovery of horse meat in a high profile brand of frozen burgers back on the 16th of January has led to outrage, a**e-covering and some serious spin doctoring from all quarters and producers and retailers alike are re-examining and re-fortifying their supply chains. Ikea has withdrawn its weiner sausages from sale, Tesco is vowing to back British farmers and only yesterday, the Food Standards Agency revealed horse meat DNA in even more products. 

Needless to say frozen burger sales have plummeted 43% (source: Guardian 26th Feb 2013) and I suspect other family 'mince-based' favourites like frozen lasagne and spaghetti bolognese won't be far behind.

The press are loving it.

But it's not just sensational headlines that have been shifting papers. Co-op placed a full page ad in last Saturday's Times newspaper and Tesco have also boosted the media's advertising coffers by placing full page ads in the Metro newspaper starting with a rapid fire response the day after the scandal broke followed by a double page spread this week.

I'm sure this is all intended to reassure their shoppers. But quite frankly, when I turned the page and saw it, all that registered was 'blah blah blah' and rather than being reassured, I was left thinking 'what a load of s**t'.

How cynical you may be thinking. And you're right. 

The damage has been done, another dent left in consumers' waning confidence and with trust at an all time low, it will take more than a couple of ads to restore it. And every subsequent exposé will serve to underscore this deepening lack of faith in the world around us. 

Or will it?

Do you think we can find it within ourselves to trust again?

What is it going to take?