I walk a lot. I walk to work, spend all day walking around, then walk home again. My colleague averages 19,000 steps per day and I live further away. On the plus side, I have no need for a gym membership, but the negative is that all is walking is no good for my shoes.
In September, just before I started working at the posh hotel, I used a gift voucher to get new shoes. They were the most expensive I could afford without needing to spend my own money. Smart black Chelsea Boots.
These are my shoes of choice. I haven’t worn lace up shoes in years, the thought of tying shoelaces is very unappealing. They keep coming undone and I am a bit too lazy plus the boots keep cold winds away from my ankles. However, the vital seconds I gain from not messing around with shoelaces are easily lost untucking my trousers which seem to constantly find themselves caught in the top of the boot.
Early in the new year, I noticed my shoes were making strange noises. The left shoe started squeaking, the right shoe had a rattle. My walk resembled the percussion section of an orchestra. The weird noises were one problem, another was that every time it rained, I got wet feet and living ‘up north’ means I walk through a lot of rain.
So, I made a decision, the shoes had to go. I took the bus to the out-of-town shopping centre (technically, a train and two busses – I really wanted some new shoes) and fighting my way through the crowds made it to the shoe shop. I found new Chelsea boots I liked fairly quickly but as usual, they were chronically understaffed so had to wait ages. The young lady came back saying my size was not in stock but I could get them delivered to my house tomorrow which I agreed to. Perhaps I should have just gone online and ordered them myself saving the train and two busses.
Anyway, the shop assistant started asking me for my details. She wanted my address which made sense and both my email and phone number. I impulsively decided to give a false email address and phone number to avoid ending up on a mailing list. The downside of this was I now had no proof of purchase or way of checking on my order. However, I was in luck, even without the documentation, the shoes arrived the following day as promised.
It took me two days to get round to opening the parcel, there was no rain in the forecast and new shoes hurt. On day three, there was no choice, rain was coming so I took the plunge and opened the box upon which I discovered I had bought exactly the same shoes as last time. I am weeks away from another pair of the squeaky, rattling, leaking boots.
The last ones didn’t fall apart for six months and that will take me to the summer, meaning there may well be fewer puddles to hop over. Also, they have given me blisters. There must be some entrepreneur who can invent work shoes that don’t want to change the shape of the wearer’s feet. Or, alternatively, the wearer could actually try them on before purchase. Either way would work…