The flip-flop strikes back.

Last week I posted my first commentary on a series of shoe disasters. Welcome to the second part of the trilogy....the flip-flop strikes back. This episode takes part in a land far, far away, AKA as Norfolk. Now this might not seem like the deepest abyss of the Dagobah system but for those who know hubby and I well, you will know that we aren't exactly the jet setting type. Anyway Norfolk sets the scene for our first camping experience and is the location of my second shoe related adventure.

Now amongst close friends I am not known for my most sensible of wardrobe choices, from tiny tops that inspire ice-cube basketball (that comment will make sense to my friends the Murphords) to trousers that unzip down the length of them (no, I don't know what I was thinking either). Anywho, the point is I can be slightly impractical when it comes to my clothing choices and so I was determined to restrain myself at least to a certain degree (of moral decency) whilst camping with friends.

I am bound to post more on the camping experience on another blog so I'll cut straight to the point and discuss footwear. I packed trainers and flip flops and they served me well. From sturdy trainers perfect for kicking a football around to water-resistant flip-flops for the morning shower run, I was suited and booted to perfection. That is until we took a little outing to the local beach.

Proud of my flip-flopped semi-casual look I was happy to splash around in the sea with the rest of the gang. Sadly it was at this point that I realised that although water-resistant my flip-flops were not immune to great big sodding waves. Yes, a rather large wave splashed against me, stole my flip-flop and carried it off into deeper waters. Not to be perturbed, myself and two of the gents of the gang waded in to try to retrieve it. Perhaps I should have left them to it as it was whilst the flip-flop was within a stones throw reach that my other flip-flop got caught in the tide and disappeared also! 

I good five minutes of splashing and several more of laughter we realised that it was not to be. Although we managed to retrieve one of the runaways the second escapee learnt from his partners mistake and didn't look back, my flip-flop was no more. I hopped up the stony (never sandy) beach, along the pavement and to the nearest market stall where I purchased myself a nice new pair of flip-flops...maybe I'm on to something here, the perfect excuse to buy new shoes, "I didn't want to buy them darling but the sea stole my other pair!"