Home, Sweet Home

I suspect that my feet swelled on the plane. My work shoes are hurting me almost as much as the slightly too small snowboots I rented on the one day did. They were more uncomfortable than the most uncomfortable stilettos I have ever worn. You see I have broad feet. I blame my mum’s side of the family – my uncle, my cousin, my mum, my gran and my youngest brother all share the same ridiculously broad feet. The problem is that the heel is still narrow (picture a flipper) so when it comes to shoes such as snowboard boots where your heel should not move you have to strap them so tightly you cut off the blood in the top of your foot in order to ensure that they fit.

Every time I go on holiday I vow and declare that I am not going to go straight from the airport to the office but then closer to the time everyday of leave seems so precious and who in their right mind would chose a day chilling at home over another day of snowboarding? I’ve been at work for a matter of hours and I am already regretting that decision. Jet lag, it is clear, is far worse going east than west. Perhaps it was because I had 2 and a half weeks of holiday to look forward to on the way there so I didn’t notice but it is only 12pm and I am already seeing squint.