The Story Of Someone’s Shoes
The Story…
In The Beginning
This is typical….absolutely typical. Something wonderful happens which turns to mush. I was extremely excited about the shoes my friend Crispin purchased for me. The finest pair of shoes you ever set your eyes on. And they’re mine, all mine! They’re all the rage. Ian Wright wears them you know. That’s good enough for me. I mean Arne shoes are pretty posh by my own usual disgusting standards.
It was no coincidence this unexpected, out-of-the-blue gift arrived on the day I just happened to be going to the pub. I rarely go to the pub these days. So, to have the opportunity to wear the shoes and admittedly show them off was too good to miss.
The Walk
A Promising Beginning
As I reported on Saturday, I’d already decided to walk into the city. Only 40 minutes and is good for one’s mental health. I felt as I powered down Cheetham Hill Road listening to Sir Elton John, that everyone was admiring my shoes. Though in reality, of course, they couldn’t give a shit. I kept looking at my feet and beaming! Wearing the odd socks which Crispin also bought for me.
It was only when I was about 10 minutes from the pub, I hit a wall. A wall of pain, I’ve never experienced before. The shoes turned against me. How could footwear be so cruel, especially to one who was buzzing? Bad shoes I thought to myself. At this point, I wasn’t sure what was going on down there. To be honest, I’m not even sure if they are blisters. The shoes had ripped skin off, a number of layers. There I was stuck in the centre of Manchester, barely able to walk.
Things Go Wrong
More Alcohol Vicar!
I had to think quick. Some plasters will sort this out. I found a store, no plasters. Found another store and managed to purchase a large dressing. That’ll sort me out. Plus, I’m drinking, and alcohol will numb the pain.
And drink heartily I did. Three pints and I almost forgot about my trouble. My colleagues ribbed me that someone, a friend, bought me shoes but they don’t understand the in-joke and the story behind the shoes. Only me and Crispin does. Our wives have tried to understand but they’ve given up and just tut and shake their heads.
The Reality
This Is Not Good!
It was time to move on. I went to the bathroom and the horror of my injuries were there for me to witness. How on earth can such magnificent shoes cause such an injury? The damage was done. The pain is real. Layers of skin had peeled away on both ankles. I applied the dressings I’d purchased but they made absolutely no difference.
I hobbled to the next pub. Two more pints taking my total to five. Surely enough to ease the pain? Absolutely not, in fact it seemed to be getting worse. When we left and lord knows where they were going next, I simply had to give up as I could walk no more. Getting home on the tram was a little tricky but the thought of getting home spurned me on. The pain was very real. I bought more beers, for medicinal purposes of course but the damage was done.
Sunday & Beyond
Rest & Pain
Sunday was tricky. I bandaged the area up and hobbled around. This pain is very real! Driving an absolute nightmare. Yesterday, I went to Boots to seek medical advice. Glad I did. Leave the wound some air when at home and apply cream. Stick dressing on wound whence at work.
The Moral Of Someone’s Shoe
Was It Worth It?
At the end of the day, every bit of pain was worth it! I felt like a million dollars walking in the shoes. And the little things in life go such a long way! Of course, in hindsight, I wish I’d eased them in but shoes like that needed a dramatic entrance and I made it!
Ironically, the shoes are very comfortable but obviously not meant for a two-mile walk into the city! I love the shoes, but the shoes don’t love me. Not yet anyway but they will learn to love me as time goes on! Could be a while before I dare put them back on but when I do, I’ll make sure I’m careful with the shoes.
As for the shoes, they have been banished to a corner of the spare room with other assorted items of junk until I see fit for them to come out and play once more.
