Boots

Yesterday morning as I was finishing my walk I noticed a very small pair of pink Ugg-type boots had been placed on the Children’s Golf Course sign. They were woollen, candy-pink with white stripes and filled my head with images of little girls running around, giggling, carefree and enchanting.

I happily lost the few minutes I had gained with my jog and took a photo of them. Returning home, I Tweeted the photos and put it on North Berwick News and Views Facebook site. The boots were too cute and I sincerely hope have found their way back to their rightful owner.

I have a penchant for boots, it has to be said. I have tall black boots with a chunky heel that I can hardly walk in but will never be parted from. I have tall black boots with a narrow heel that I can walk for miles in. I have heeled black ankle boots that I can also walk for miles in. There are black low heel boots with a red trim and two sets of zips on each boot: they were a mistake. One of the zips serves a purpose, allowing the foot in and out. The other zip which runs the entire height of the boot at the back, serves no purpose and cannot be used. I should have sent them back, but that was 2 years ago, so I will wear them until I can bear it no more and replace them with a pair I really like.

There are brown boots: suede, leather, chunky and fine, tall and short; blue flat suede and heeled ankle; red Bertie boots that are over 25 years old, which I am unlikely ever to wear again but have sentimental value and will never be thrown out.

My most beautiful boots are from Hobbs and were bought at least 8 years ago, on a shopping trip in London with J. They are purple, elegant and crippling for my bunion. They hardly ever get worn, but they are there – just in case.

Then of course there are the ‘working’ boots: climbing boots from Dollar days when I lived near hills; furry Merrell boots for the Winter, purple wellie boots and a very small selection of riding boots: one tall pair, one short.

I hide the dressy boots away in the late Spring and relish retrieving them once the colder days start in October.

Boots – a poem

You kicked them off, with a hint of despair

and left them where they fell.

As you skulked towards the armchair,

your face had a story to tell.

I knew it was best to leave you

But there was a pain behind your eyes

You would come round when you needed to,

But it hurt to hear your sighs.

I gathered your boots and put them back

– It will be okay I reassured –

– behind your dad’s at the end of the rack –

It’s for the best, she’s gone abroad.

You padded through in your big thick socks

I held you close, smelling your hair

you snuggled in as I stroked your locks,

and hoped she’d know how much you care.