bags and laughter and sore feet

by Maggie Scout

And so the colourful people arrived. Regulars. A group of young women in their early twenties wearing brightly coloured dresses on this gloriously sunny day.  In unison they pushed their sunglasses off their faces as they entered the tearoom, adjusting to the change in light, and headed for their usual table. The random shopping bags carrying their newest purchases were abandoned to the floor as they collapsed in a heap. The present hush evaporated as clatter and chatter took over. An entrance.

Why do you squeeze your feet into the pointiest shoes with the highest heels in the world going shopping then. You’re asking for trouble. You’ll end up with corns and bunions like my mother. It’s not attractive and bloody sore. You could end up having to wear Jesus sandals eventually – not a good look. Unless you’re Jesus of course or 3.

I know. It’s a bit vain but I don’t like flatties they make me look like Max Wall.


Just ask someone over 50. And don’t get her started on leggings.

Oh dear God.

Wee glass of wine anyone? Crisp and chilled?

Three glasses of white please and an Earl Grey tea … for the driver with her sensible shoes.

Everyone spoke together. Thanks Sally!

Sally smiled remembering.

They’d obviously had a good day and their stories and giggling about dressing rooms and special mirrors and sizing was infectious. People around them laughed including the woman in the corner and the girl with the sensible shoes and the shutter girl. The mood was lighter; for the moment the world, here, a better place.

Life and laughter.