Tuesday, 17 April 2007

Feet in the sink

Yes! It may only be April but it's bound about in sandals time (no socks - the British do know this, notwithstanding examples on the tube suggesting otherwise). When I say sandals I don't mean high heeled Louboutin beauties, but sturdy made for trekking over rough terrain jobs that work well on the farm once wellies are no longer required and the toes are asking for an airing. The sandals mean that when your feet start to tan, they have a permanent wide white band across the arch - not madly attractive, but there you are. Worse, the heels of my feet turn into evil before-shots for cracked skin treatments; they aspire to elephant's kneecaps. The sandal wearing means a new evening ritual kicks in. The feet get truly filthy - mud, sheep shit, grass stains, you name it, all find their determined way onto the feet and get pretty well ingrained by the end of the day. So it's into the bathroom, fill the basin with warm soapy water, find your coarsest and most hardy nail brush and one foot at a time, get scrubbing. There is something intrinsically comic about standing on one leg with a foot in the sink; plenty of potential for painful slapstick type accidents. Nothing worth repeating has happened yet, but summer stretches before us.

2 comments:

mutterings and meanderings said...

Why don't you buy a washing up bowl and sit soaking your feet in front of the telly?

Mopsa said...

To be honest, I'm too much of a snob to find that idea appealing - I won't even have a washing up bowl in the kitchen sink and the thought of having one for my feet is pathetically off-putting. I'd happily use one of the many livestock buckets or skips though, sitting on the bench outside the house in the evening sun. No accounting for what makes you gurn!