Do we just wake up one morning wearing Fit-Flops and sensible knickers?
Hilary Fannin: Gomera is not party-shoe terrain – just as well, given my increasingly practical wardrobe
‘I wonder at what point one graduates to permanent fleece-wearer’
I’ve just spent five days dragging myself up and down hillsides and lying my bluey-white body on black sand underneath a yellow sun. It was just before Christmas when my old friend emailed to invite me to visit her in her village home on La Gomera, an island off the coast of Tenerife.
“Bring your walking shoes,” she instructed, and I did. Gomera is not party-shoe terrain. Just as well, given my increasingly practical wardrobe. (I wonder does that happen with age. I wonder at what point one graduates to permanent fleece-wearer. Do we all just wake up one morning with Fit-Flops soldered on to our calloused feet and sensible knickers orbiting our girths?)