Trench foot

A pair of my favourite boots died today. I am in mourning.

However, they did die doing what they loved best - pram walking. In torrential rain.

The post mortem says that drowning was the cause of death. Their demise was also responsible for my wet socks and trench foot on the return leg.

It has been a pretty rubbish day weather and otherwise. Had a massive row with my husband (why must we always row when he's working from home - a definite pattern there!) and then I got soaked on the streets of Manchester on a 13km round trip to East Didsbury. I needed a Sainsbury's for a work thing. Long story. It was a choice between Stretford, Sale or East Dids/Withington. I debated driving but the chance to burn all those calories prevailed.

Ironically, the caramel latte, bakewell tart and biscuits I demolished on my pit stop at Costa Coffee probably negated the effort. I should have just driven. I'd certainly be drier and I wouldn't have lost my favourite boots. Lesson learned.