It has been for the most part a very successful weekend. I went all the way from Essex to Dorset on Saturday and was barefoot for most of the time, and I got to watch the football match I wanted to see. The only blot on the last couple of days has been the muscle strain in my left foot that has become very painful.

From the time I woke up on Saturday morning I knew it would be a day where I would suffer some discomfort in my foot. I’m pretty sure that the problem has occurred due to wearing flip flops, although there has not been a corresponding problem with my right foot. Putting my foot down isn’t the issue. The pain occurs when I lift my foot up.

Nevertheless I was determined that I was going to go ahead as planned, so at around 08:40 I made my way to the railway station in flip flops. As soon as I took my seat at the back of the carriage I removed said footwear and placed them in my ruck sack. I was very nervous about going barefoot on the underground but on arrival at Liverpool Street station I alighted from the train with my footwear still in my ruck sack.

I got some quizzical looks on my way to the central line but pretended not to notice. The floor was easy to walk on and I was soon on the platform. Two train journeys later I arrived at Paddington station where I emerged onto a busy concourse thronging with people. More looks came my way but again no one said anything as I waited for the platform information for my train. Fifteen minutes later I was on my way to platform seven, the only barefooter among hundreds of people.

I found a seat on the train and was relieved that I could once again be fairly inconspicuous. At one point a lady sat in the seat next to me and despite chatting for a while didn’t mention my lack of footwear. At that point I was fairly astounded at how well it was all going.

On arriving at my destination one look out of the window told me that walking barefoot would be too much of a challenge given the rough, uneven surface of the platform and the ensuing problem with my foot. Besides which, there is no bus service to this particular game so I knew I had a walk of about 35 minutes in front of me. By the time I got to the ground I was in quite a bit of pain but I felt a sense of achievement that I’d got that far.

I watched the game in my flip flops and no one passed comment. It was very cold though and there was a point with a few minutes to go where I began to wonder if I can really get used to being barefoot in the winter. It certainly didn’t help that I was in quite a bit of pain by that time. At the final whistle I was already by the exit ready to make my way back to the station. With two fully fit feet I’m sure I would have made the 17:20 train. As it was I missed it by five minutes so went into a pub opposite the station and had a pint.

I was back in the station in time to catch the 18:06 back to London and as soon as I’d taken my seat once again put my flip flops away. Another three barefoot underground train journeys later I was back at Liverpool Street station. Given the late hour the floor of the station concourse was much colder but still easy to walk on. Unfortunately I’d missed the 21:18 train, again by five minutes, which meant waiting for the 22:18. So, remaining barefoot, I went up the stairs and outside the station to the Hamilton Hall pub for a drink.

I had quite a few looks and I’m sure some people thought I was nuts. I had two pints, and while drinking the second one I got chatting to three guys. During the course of the conversation one asked me about my bare feet. I explained that my toe injury prevents me from wearing covered shoes and that walking barefoot is more comfortable that wearing flip flops. He asked if I would be wearing shoes and trainers again after my injury heals up and I told him that I enjoy being barefoot so much that I’m not sure. He asked if I was concerned that people would think I’m weird and I confessed that yes, it is a concern but I was more worried about abuse.

I made my way onto the platform to catch my train and passed a guy I used to work with. We said hi but I didn’t stop and chat as he was with other people and I really didn’t want to have to explain why I was barefoot at 22:10 on a Saturday night in December on Liverpool Street station. I went to the end carriage and took a seat.

At Clacton-on-Sea station I put my flip flops back on and made my way home. Most of the fifteen minute walk is on paths that are not paved but are made of concrete with stones embedded in them. The paths are worn and the stones protrude which is why it is so difficult to walk on them. There is however one route home that crosses a community field, and when I reached the grass I removed my flip flops. The grass was freezing cold and frost was just beginning to form. By the time I reached the other side of the field my soles were pleading for warmth and once again my doubts about coping with being barefoot when the snow arrives re-emerged.

Shortly after this I was indoors and it wasn’t long before I was tucked up in bed.

I have very mixed feelings about my barefoot experience on Saturday. For although it was successful and I enjoyed the comfort of not wearing any footwear, I was always conscious of the fact that I stood out and I’m not one that likes attention. I was relieved that I didn’t receive any abuse and that there weren’t any problems with officialdom. In fact as always there were quite a few police on Liverpool Street station to monitor weekend revellers but they didn’t bother me at all.

But despite these successes I found the exercise mentally challenging to the point where I was never able to relax. I was always very aware of what was going on around me and felt a tremendous sense of relief when I reached the point where I put on my flip flops. I don’t want to feel like that. I want to be able to go barefoot without being on tenterhooks and I don’t know if I will ever be able to do that. Maybe I’ll feel a bit better about it when I go to a game next Saturday.

On Sunday morning I awoke to a painful foot and the prospect of having to go into town with my wife to do some Christmas shopping. I applied some muscular spray to the injury and hobbled around town in my flip flops for a couple of hours, and was glad to be home at around 14:00. Since then I’ve tried to nurse the injury and I’m hoping that it will recover in the next couple of days.

One interesting side effect of being barefoot is that my feet have become very dry and the soles have started to flake. I’ll have to keep an eye on this as I don’t want them to crack and bleed as it would be very painful and there would be a very great risk of infection. Hopefully it’s just another natural process that my feet have to go through as they get used to the rigours of barefoot living.

This week I am back at work, beginning Monday afternoon. I’ve yet to explain my inability to wear closed footwear to my boss but I don’t think it will be a problem. I’m also planning to be at another football match on Tuesday night. If I go I’ll be driving to this game and the challenge will be the low temperature that my feet will have to deal with.

Any barefoot walks at the beach this week will depend on how quickly my foot muscle injury recovers.