I mentioned here yesterday that I have a problem with loss.

So in the interests of full disclosure, I think I should also reveal I have a problem with shoes. Not in in losing shoes, mind, in finding them.  It appears from the straw poll I performed this morning regarding how many shoes other people actually own, I may* have a problem.  Not a massive problem, just a little one.  Or, not so much little, as errr… Well you be the judge.

Here are my shoes:

42 pairs, give or take.. Mainly give, as I found four more pairs after this photo-shoot, and I remembered I left another pair at a mates house in Melbourne last time I was there…

In my defence, I live in Queensland, and it is quite hot, so I require lots of thong-sandal-flimsy kind of shoes. It does however cool down in the Autumn, so I do require a few shoes for that change of season. In addition I am likely to go to Melbourne at least once a year, so I require black things and warm things to do that.  Plus, there is the fact that I like to give the impression of being kind of casual-sporty, so I have no choice but to have a pair or several of Cons. (You may notice there is one pair of actual running shoes. I wore those in 2011, and I will say they were very comfortable that day.)

So there you have it.  This is what the shoe situation is like for a person with many and varied tastes.  I would also like to remind you, before you mock my abundance, that I wear every single pair of these shoes, except the white wedding shoes, but I will wear those this Friday.  These shoes are my friends and allies.  I have The Menopause, so sometimes it is impossible to find anything to wear that makes a girl feel good. My feet are never fat, and my shoes never fail me.

I am writing this blog through tears.

Tears of happysadsurprisejoy.  I’m just so touched.

As you have probably gathered by now, I live a fair bit of my life in my own head, and by extension, on the internet.  Being a blog subscriber, twitter follower, instagram poster and facebook friend suits someone like me.  I like to have opinions, and then force gently express those ideas to others.  So commenting on posts, and then eventually writing a blog is a natural fit for me.  I can rant and rave, wail and keen, judge and laugh, and then press “publish”.  Much cheaper than therapy, and easier than alienating everyone I know IRL with my nonsense.

So you probably heard my mate died four weeks ago.  Those weeks are a bit of a blur.  I know I carried on a fair bit, on this, my little home on the interwebs, and probably a lot more on the other Soc’s.

Three weeks ago, a wonderful chick I follow, BabyMacBeth posted a pic on Insta of a teapot, with the caption “KirstiMelville this is for you x”.   It was the day of Hayley’s funeral.

Hayley loved teapots and, as she would say, “cutesy” things.  Hayley also loved BabyMac.  We would often talk about  BabyMac’s recipes, and her warm and comfy blog, where it’s all: sit down, put up your feet, pour yourself a cuppa and lets have a chat.  We loved BabyMac’s blog, and we thought that maybe we would do some blogging together, Hayls and I.  She could do the recipes and the food styling, and I could write some stuff.  I dunno what, being a culinary bogan and all, but I thought I could knock something together.

So when Beth posted the pic, of a teapot that is a bit similar to a teapot I once bought Hayls, I got right on and hijacked the photo that was meant for Kirsti.  I said “My friend Hayley who loved you Beth and collected teapots would have adored that pic.  It’s her funeral today.  I’m looking at that with tears and thinking of all the cuppas we shared, and all the ones we now won’t.”

Beth and Kirsti and FauxFushsia were gracious and caring and said they would raise their teacups to Hayls that day.  I’m a bit embarrassed that I did that now, butted in and put my own grief onto a post that was meant for someone else.  To be honest I hardly even remember doing it, such was the cottonwool of my brain that day.

Then today something unexpected arrived in the post for me.

I can hardly believe it.

If I was BabyMac, I would say: Have you EVER?

A teapot.  With a cosy.   And a touching note from Beth.  A person I have never met, in real life.  My heart doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and my eyes are saying, “do both, do both”.  My brain is overcome with the happy-sadness of a lost friend and the kindness of a stranger.  Someone who doesn’t know me, but who I feel I know.

This teapot is a teapot for one.  I will drink from it tonight, and think of my one.  The one that I could say my things to, plan my bits with, think out loud with, and laugh until I feared I might let out a little bit of wee with.  I miss you Hayls.  And BabyMac?  Words just can’t explain.  That teapot has broken and mended my heart.

So cutesy.