Monday, 6 December 2010

Wellies and slippers

At this time of year, living in the country, my feet are either in wellies or slippers. I am fully aware that some people rarely wear either, which I find hard to comprehend; they must only walk on clean pavements and have very warm houses.

My slippers are especially stupendous being the pink ‘Bo’ pair from They were last year’s Christmas present from my beloved and have survived the washing machine twice. What makes them especially useful is that because they have rubber soles, I can wear them on the vegetable patch when I need to dash out to pull a leek or do a spot of driving and dropping off of teenage daughter.

I realise that neither of these items of footwear are remotely cool or sophisticated, although my eldest daughter has a photo of Kate Moss, at Glastonbury, looking both in her wellies (she was looking particularly naffed-off with my daughter incidentally), but I am psychologically and emotionally attached to both pairs. Wearing them is quite ‘self nuturing’. Wellies enable me to go anywhere (along the coastpath, through snow drifts, muddy fields and streams) and slippers mean once they are on my feet I am truly home. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact I have been wearing wellies and slippers since toddlerhood (woolly tights and cardigans have a similar effect on me). Wilf is delighted by both pairs; wellies mean walks and slippers either smell wonderful or he just enjoys seeing my searching for the one he has stolen.

When I used to read the News for Bath FM, I often had to do a Saturday shift on my own (well with the DJ too). Slippers on my feet meant that the 6am bulletin was slightly more bearable and I could almost convince myself that it was a day off.  Similarly, the fact I always had wellies in the boot of my car meant I was able to clamber across field gates and get to the scene of a farm fire and interview the fire-officers way before the BBC got there!

 I am fully aware that women all over the British Isles love shoes; they collect them. They all look impossible to walk in and desperately painful but I am in awe of their grace as they totter about. The last time I wore anything remotely glamorous was to a party, however this was in a marquee in a field. Before I could greet my hosts I was wiping my heels with tufts of grass and looking longingly at someone else dancing in a shift dress with wellies.

This reminds me, you can now buy white wellies for brides, for when they go stomping across the grass or beach for photoshoots. I think that is quite a positive indication of a bride’s character – it means she is prepared for better and worse.

I am intrigued if anyone else has similar attachments to items of clothing?

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