Mushroom hunt curtailed due to flappy feet.

On Saturday we went on a picnic.  The location was a planting of northern hemisphere trees in the middle of a forest of eucalyptus in the mountains.  We were off to gaze at the Autumn mushroom crop.

A perfect day for a stroll in a forest.

It involved several kilometres of walking each way.  Shh - no one tell the little monster - she will be too tired.

Given the distance, I opt for boots.  Admittedly purchased in 1996 and worn hard for a number of years, a little torn on the inside lining but they looked good for one more outing.  It has been several years since I wore them.  I repeat, they looked good.

One kilometre up the path, what is that attached to my boot flapping about - ooops - the sole.  And the other is just as bad.  Stop, sit in a patch of spiky bombs (term coined by little monster circa 2012), husband does repairs from the first aid kit.  Luckily the tape is similarly elderly and has developed a vicious stickiness.

The shoes make it to the arboretum.  We gaze at some mushrooms, eat a magnificent picnic and note the interestingly large variety of some weird insect we have no idea what - it looks like a pileup on a luggage carousel.

Sadly the mushrooms were not prolific.  The husband and I got into an argument over varieties.  "Edible", I said, "hallucinogenic", he said.  Luckily we weren't tempted to try.  In an unlikely turn of events, he was right.  Toxic, too.

Hello Fly Agaric.  Your spots are charming.

We sloop back along the path, all foot weary.  I am pronating like a champion as my soles depart in strange directions.  More taping in transit. 

Ah, back to the car.  Boots cut off, oh no, I forgot to wee first.  Good thing no cars went by.  Sorry ants.

Yippee for tape.