You can say what you like about Anna Bligh, but damnit, the woman always wears good shoes.
And as someone who spends most days schlepping around in a pair of Orthoheel thongs, I respect that.
You'll be pleased to know, though, that today I scored a minor personal victory. Today I attended a Bligh media conference - and for the first time, my shoes were better than hers. Score one for my pewter peep-toe pumps, which were just plain nicer than the Premier's round-toe black shoes with the high, thick heels.
However, my joy in this minor triumph over someone who is so literally well-heeled was short-lived. Capering about Parliament House and the carpark in my power pumps didn't do anything for my poor feet, sadly out of heel-wearing fitness. I'm now suffering intense soreness on that padded bit just below the big toe, with some bruising to the "little piggies that had none". Ouch.
To top off my podiatric troubles, I had the pleasure of stuffing up big time in my choice of film to review on-air today. I chose Death at a Funeral, a British farce-cum-screwball comedy. Nothing the matter with that, surely, I hear you ask.
Maybe not. But the day of the military funeral of Trooper David Pearce - the first Australian soldier to be killed in combat in Afghanistan - was probably NOT the ideal day to do it.
Youch. I'm still feeling that one.
Ah, well. Perhaps now you all understand even more why my adventures are labelled "bruising".
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