Sole wrenching

My tap shoes are falling apart. It's really sad, because I love them so much. I bought them second hand, and not only so they fit perfectly, but the taps on the bottom have never needed tightening or loosening; they are perfect for me, and so when I discovered that the soles were starting to peel off, I decided to try get them fixed before I considered buying a new pair. I found a shoe repair shop at my nearest Westfield (where I no longer get lost in the car park,) and explained my dilemma. The man behind the counter told me that he could do a patch up job, or fix them more permanently by taking the soles off completely and re-gluing them. He then asked me which option I would prefer, but before I had time to answer, he proceeded to tear the sole off one of my shoes, saying "see, look at all this coming apart..." I flinched ridiculously, and felt horrified at the pain he had inflicted on my beautiful shoes. I didn't really have a choice after that, and said that I'd like him to redo the soles, and I kind of needed them re-attached. Apparently it's going to take a week, and shouldn't change anything about them, except for the falling apart bit. Fingers crossed.
This fiasco was followed by a far less stressful experience, which was international pancake day with some amazing friends. For the first time ever, I tried Nutella and berries on mine, and it was absolutely magical. The only downside is that I am now re-hooked on Nutella, and am eating some off a spoon as I write this.
As we arrived at the station to catch a train home from pancake night, we witnessed a guy sliding down the centre stair bannister, but not on his butt; he was straddling it. If this wasn't disturbing and potentially painful enough, he was rocking back an forth as though he was at a rodeo. He realised we were watching, and started playing it up even more. We then awkwardly faked being busy on the sidewalk for a couple of minutes until he left, and then hurried to our platform.
This afternoon as I got home from class, I was singing in the car, and hadn't finished the song yet, so I parked and turned off the ignition, but kept singing. I belted out the last few notes, grabbed my bag and got out of the car, only to realise that I must have been a bit louder than I thought, as an elderly man across the road - who had been watering his garden -  was just standing there staring at me. I gave him an awkward smile and little nod, and left him there, absentmindedly watering his driveway rather than the roses.
                                                                   Little Duck, out.