'I don't want a boy!'

I took GrandDaughter1 shopping yesterday afternoon for the boots I promised her for her birthday.

First stop Costa, where GrandDaughter1 had mint hot chocolate and we shared a millionaire's shortbread. (She insisted.)

There are remarkably few shoe shops in town these days. After getting measured and trying on some boots at Clarks we tried Schuh and then, after a phone call to Mum to check what exactly she was allowed to have in the way of boots for school, I dragged her to Marks and Spencers. (Via Jenkins the pasty shop for a cheese and onion pasty.) (For her not me.)

I said, 'Do you like any of these boots?'
She took one look while  munching and said, 'No, I hate them all.'

Back to Schuh to try on some Doc Martens. 'I don't want a boy,' Granddaughter1 whispered. 'I'm not going in if I have to have a boy.'
'It's okay, you don't have to have a boy to serve you. We can wait for a girl.'
Which proved easier to say than to do. 

The crowds had dispersed leaving three boy assistants hovering hopefully. GrandDaughter1 and I hung around 'just looking' at shoes for ages. What with her giggling and hiding her face in my coat I feared we would be asked to leave as suspicious characters before a girl assistant became available.

We finally got home with cherry Doc Martens. Just like her old ones except one size bigger.

You can't see in this picture but they have zips making them much easier to put on and take off and I speak from experience. Of not having zips that is.