Mr.Hare or Mr.Sheen?
So there I was, polishing the teak, with Mr. Sheen, and my loafer... Actually, that isn't me. But just so Mr. Sheen (mad U.S. actor one not household cleaning product) doesn't sit there for days in blog slot number 1, here are the shoes I am chasing down today. They call me The Shoe Hunter. The Shunter in fact. The ones in my sights are by Mr.Hare. Know him? (click to meet) . Am hunting for O'Leary, for the FT HTSI and for me. A trinity of shoe demand.
Mr. Hare relaxes at home.
It won't affect the shine, will it?
Once Mr. Hare's shoes are in the bag, in the Saab, am driving to the BBC. I bet there is nothing remotely glamorous there. Or even smart low key like these fellas from Car Shoe. This is not exactly radical blogging, but just keeping it heel on S&E.
More of Marc Hare's shoes later. Maybe. Got a dinner party to organise.
PS. Notes on first dinner party at Lavinia Villa with people from the West: Have got table, but no chairs. Have got cheese board, but no main course. Nah pop no style, a strictly roots...Can you see a patina emerging? (shoe joke)