***Long Post Warning*** Vodka Sticks and Interesting Footwear

Went out last night with the Spanish girls. That is, the girls from my old Spanish class.

Because I've been so distracted all week, I didn't double check my email, so turned up on my bike, in trainers, looking generally scruffy, only to be confronted with two ladies, dressed up to the nines in peep-toe shoes/sparkly sandals, already in need of blister plasters.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. So back on the bike for me, cycle like the wind home, change into more glamorous togs (slightly sweaty from cycling at the speed of light, I'll admit), slip into more appropriate shoes, call a cab, get to vodka bar.

Now, I don't know if you've been to a vodka bar before - I haven't - so I didn't really know how it all worked, but I will tell you. This is how it works:

• Go to bar.
• Peruse menu.
• Note the options are shots, cocktails, pitchers (all vodka-based) and wine.
• Discuss options with Spanish girls.
• Get coerced into buying a "stick".

A "stick" is a line of vodka shots. We were just going for the six-shot stick, however for a princely sum, there were ten shot sticks. And for an undisclosed sum, there were 30-shot sticks. Not on the menu - only for those in the know and with a plastic friend to pay for them.

Anyway - Peep-Toes was driving, so just two of us drinking - and we're very lady-like, so we sipped our way through two rather tasty six-shot sticks. And a bottle of wine.

It would be fair to say that by the time we started dancing around the table, we were not entirely drunk, but neither were we entirely sober. And the earlier mentioned sore feet - although getting continually worse, were momentarily forgotten.

Until it was time to walk home... My fellow drinker - Sparkly Sandals, chose this point to disclose that her shoes were a size too small and reveal the sparkly sandal-shaped imprints on her feet. After struggling for at least 25 meters, it was necessary to remove the sparkly sandals entirely. Which reduced the homebound pace from snails, to statues.

In a bid to reduce discomfort for Sparkly Sandals, we all rummaged around in our bags to see if we had any unexpected pairs of socks/flip flops, which of course, we did not. However... the initial saviour came in the form of... two sanitary towels. Yes, that's right, Sparkly Sandals put a pair of sanitary towels on her feet in a bid to cushion them from the pain of pavement walking (and not that nice smooth-slab sort of pavement).

But, no sooner had the sanitary towels been applied, than saviour number 2 arrived, in the form of a very kind young gentleman, named Matt. Or Dom. Or maybe it was Dan. Anyway, he happened to be moving house (at three in the morning. Yes, three in the morning - and yes, as it happens, it is only now that I start to thinking that it may be odd - and that perhaps something is amiss there, and perhaps the boy was doing a runner... still, he was a saviour, so who am I to call the police?).

So, Criminal Lad pipes up "Are your feet sore? It's just I'm moving house and I can give you some shoes to wear if you want - they're just a scruffy old pair I'm getting rid of". Could he possibly have better timing? Anyway, Criminal Lad nips off to get shoes and comes back with a scruffy pair of reef crawlers. But once he cops an eye of Sparkly Sandals (she's rather attractive), he changes his mind and decides he'd really appreciate having them back - they toured the world with him - could he just maybe take a number?

After some hesitation, Criminal Lad has a brain wave, scribbles his number on the shoes, and we're off.