Am I a dirty hippie?

My BirksDespite what the above picture may suggest, I have to say no. 

I have bought my third pair of Birkenstocks.  I took a walk today during lunch time and ended up at the Seven Dials.  And, of course, I ended up in the Birkenstock store.  I fucking love the Birkenstock store.  Fo reals.

I had always wanted a pair of Birkenstocks when I lived in America, but, as any American who’s ever been interested in the shoes virtually eponymous with the ’90s hippie has found, the purchase of a pair of Birkenstocks in America will ensure the wearer won’t have the means to buy food for a month.  So, well, I never purchased a pair.

But Birkenstocks in the UK can be super inexpensive!  I purchased each pair I own for £29.95 in the sale section at the Birkenstock store in Covent Garden. £29.95!!

And I live in the centre of London.  And when you live in the centre of London, you walk a lot.  And when you walk a lot, you don’t want to be traipsing around in bunion-inducing cheap heels from New Look.  Especially when those ‘cheap’ heels cost you £29.99.  I’ve seen women walking around in the blizzard conditions last winter in stilettos when grown men in their trainers were slipping on the ice (by the way, watching people fall on icy pavements in front of you is hilarious).  Stilettos!! For those of you who judge my Birkenstocks, have a good time with your bunged-up knees and foot corns when you’re 35.  Ew.  Also, I’m always tripping over the uneven London pavements (like everyone else and their mother), yet I’ve never stubbed my toes in my Birks.

And now, the shoe porn.

Primeval Birk

My first pair of Birks.  Possibly purchased in a size too big, but I love them nonetheless.

Sexy Birk

Flesh-baring Birk.  You hussy.

Newest Birk

Newest, mary-jane-like Birk.  Makes me feel like running in an Austrian field and singing songs.

Miscellany

So I went to the chiropractor this morning and discovered that the weird ‘creaky door’ feeling in my left foot is due to a ‘locked arch’.  Which is most likely due to me traipsing around town in my not-worn-in Birkenstock sandals with the straps too tight, thereby restricting the movement of my entire foot because the footbed is still very stiff.  

Oops.

Wevs.

I still love them, my new Birkenstocks.

 

I also got a whole 400 more words written for my Critical Evaluation due May 11th.  But I also straightened out my notes and went to the library to get some more reading done when I’d realised I really should have some more research done for this thing.  I’m going to bring my work with me to Essex this weekend.  Red and I are going home to get our suitcases for the upcoming America trip, you see.  Except we found out that his parents are actually going to be in France this weekend.  They went because of the bank holiday on Monday.  So it’s just going to be me and Red all by ourselves.  Ah, room to stretch out and work in the peace and beauty of the conservatory rather than the flat in which all I can think about when I’m trying to concentrate is all the crap that could be cleaned up.

Also, going home this weekend means Fish and Chips!  Whee!!!

Except since Red doesn’t get home until 6:30pm and it will take at least an hour to get to Witham and then we’re going to have to walk a mile and a half home (unless we get a cab) to get the car, I won’t be eating dinner until at least 8:30pm.  This is not a good thing.  You see, I get quite cross when I haven’t eaten.  Blerg.  Never mind that.