Walking alongside the Viaduct marina this morning, I spot a young woman in jogging attire with one foot up on a park bench, staring at her foot. There’s nobody else around, and she is lecturing her running shoe:
“Are you going to just sit there doing nothing, or are you going to get up and join me?”, followed by an audible exhalation through loosely pursed lips. Pfft. Taunting it.
Thats odd, I think. Paradoxically, although she plainly has little respect for the moral fibre of her shoe, its clear she has complete confidence in its command of the english language, and is fully expecting a reply.
She pauses, continuing to stare challengingly at the shoe.
I slow down to see how she’s going to react when it fails to respond.
And then, as I pass, I notice the bluetooth device in her other ear. Ah. Not shoe. Boyfriend.