Ms Magneto – The Agony in Buying Shoes

We (Peter and me) went  to buy some walking sandals this morning.  That is to say we were shopping and went into the shoe shop as an add on – and it was there that my Ms Magneto powers struck!

When I walk in summer I much prefer not to wear boots and heavy socks, but my all terrain sandals really are  ancient. Still wearable – not broken or worn out – just  old.  I bought them for a holiday in Northumberland in 1997. So very old sandals.

Now those who know me will be aware that shoe shopping in my company is a nightmare.  With the exception of several of the more expensive makes – the expensive brands obviously *sigh* –  most other  women’s shoes are too narrow.   I have massively structured (some might say deformed)  tarsals – resulting in  a very high instep – and I mean huuuuge, despite all of Mother’s dire warnings issued throughout  my teens that “walking barefoot would give me flat feet!”

Expecting  to find nothing suitable I was unsurprised to find  just two pairs that would fasten over those  gargantuan afore-mentioned  tarsals. One pair of which were static-inducing nylon (never good for Ms Magneto) and the other being very light (flimsy); not to mention luminous pink!  (What is it with sports wear fashionistas who think all women wear PINK? )

Then,   quite by chance, I saw -over in the men’s section – a fairly decent approximation of my old faithfuls!  Hand stitched leather with decent soles (i.e. with some ‘tread’ worthy of the name).  Success!  Much Snoopy dancing (in the mind at least).
Elegant they are not – practical and comfy they are –  but then I do, after all, intend walking hills in these things – not partying the night away. Comfort first!

So what has all this  to do with Ms Magneto you might ask?

We come to that at last.

As  I handed the assistant my lovely (okay maybe not lovely in the gorgeous delicate ladies footwear sense – but still my kind of excellent)  new sandals – it struck. The old zapperooney!

A whacking great blue spark leaped from the ends of  my finger tips and danced across the back of the poor girl’s hand like some low-budget  Star Wars  re-enactment – the Emperor Palpatine zapping Luke in the Death Star’s throne room! 

The unfortunate lass did some leaping of her own – backwards – dropping the sandals and stumbling into the shoe racks a few paces behind her. Bless her little socks – she was the consummate professional shop girl and apologised  profusely.

I  apologised in  turn – and explained  that this was just me – that  I zap things on a regular basis. But I could see she was not convinced – she kept looking at my hand – trying to see what trickery or  gadget I had concealed there to pay some dastardly trick on unsuspecting sales staff…

We paid for the sandals and left – rapidly.