Shoes and Boots

It rains a lot in Falmouth. Certainly seems to be true for this time of year. As I was leaving the post office this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of a newspaper headline promising a month's rainfall in 2 days. Summer all over again! There must have been at least a month's worth of rain yesterday in Truro. Unfortunately, my boots have at this most inconvenient time of year, finally worn away, the sole separating from the upper, so water rushes in, horrible. They've taken on a truly scruffy and graveyard like appearance. I may have to sacrifice some of my sweets and chocolates budget to buy new ones.

I'm tempted by a lovely, shiny pair of doc martens in the budget boot seller in town. There's something very special about a shiny new pair of boots. It was one of the small tragedies of my childhood that I never had a pair of patent leather shoes, despite pestering for them for years. In fact, I don't think I ever have had a pair of patent leather shoes, being old enough for some time now to buy my own, I don't know why I haven't, perhaps now I should. And perhaps I could be even more decadent and buy them in red.

Unlike several of my friends, who hold shamelessly to the cliche that women love shoes, I don't. (Always want to be different) I don't dislike them, I just don't have a passion for them. Boots I do like, and own several pairs, but it takes time and effort for me to actually buy them. Often it's sheer laziness, and the hassle of having to go to the shops, try them one and choose. As with many purchases, once I have bought them, I suffer guilt at spending money, and am wracked with worry that I've chosen the wrong ones. I always keep my receipts.

Perhaps another hang over from childhood when my sisters and I were miserably taken to Startrite and humiliated with footwear. Not entirely our mum's fault, it was just what was available in the mid to late 1980s and early 90s. My worst ever shoes were a pair of grey lace ups, highly polished, slate grey with thick, flat rubber soles also grey, from Startrite. At the same time I was also taken to the hairdressers and given a spiked fringe. It was not a happy school year at Greasby Juniors until my hair grew, and the shoes were mysteriously wrecked. Rough concrete playgrounds and school brick walls have their benefits. So do being a grown up and choosing your own shoes - I'll never have to wear grey lace ups again!