Sibyl bought me a brand new pair of leather shoes.They’re lovely.
Whenever we used to get new trainers when we were little there were two distinctive things Dad would say that stick with me:
- He’d call them ‘training shoes’ not trainers (or sneakers for that matter). As if to emphasize their true purpose and not to get them mixed up with say… the swimming shoes, the gardening shoes or the walking shoes.
- So, picture the scene, fresh home from Brent Cross with our gleaming white pair of Hi-Techs, we’d run up to him, eagerly anticipating approval. Then the question would come: “are they leather?” If they were he’d say ‘Great! Wow!’ if they weren’t there would be trouble. He would beat us around the face with the non-leather shoe until we learned that no shoe was a real shoe until it was a leather shoe. We’d then be driven to a nearby field, be given a shot gun and be asked to take out the closest cow in range and go about seeking to make a shoe out of its skin.
That’s pretty much how it went, so understandably I do feel very proud to have finally found a pair of proper leather shoes.