Work Boots

As I continue to reflect on my life in the 1950s and incidents that happened then and have a vivid impact on my everyday life now. Anyone who knows me will have not noticed that I wear, regardless of time of year or indeed continents remember I frequent South America and Europe, I wear lace up work boots or shoes all day and every day.

As previously mentioned, my dad would take regular trips to the Scrap Man AKA Rag and Bome Man to get a return on his bag of scrap metal.  Sometimes he would return with a little extra in his would-be empty bag. On one such visit he returned with what looked like a pair of lace up brown leather shoes that seemingly would fit me. Now this was quite a turn up. We lived in a houseboat moored against a riverbank. There were no ‘made’ or ‘metal’ roads or foot paths. Pedestrian links were at the mercy of the change of tides that happen there twice a day. Footwear was always a careful consideration. My sisters and I would wear buckle shoes or sandals or sand shoes AKA plimsols or pumps dependant on the seasons. Wellington boots were an option but these were often as wet inside as out! Enough to say shoes were not a fashion accessory more something to protect your feet and any given moment. 

So back to the shoes in question, child size brown leather lace ups.  On closer inspection they were not a pair. Yes, there was a left and a right and the same size but the was a subtle but recognisable difference in the design of each shoe. In those days shoes were hung beside the door outside the shop on string. One from each pair while its ‘other’ stayed in the box inside the shop. It would seem the two shoes, a likely pair had been stolen leaving an unmatched pair in boxes indoors. The shop keeper unlikely to sell the remaining ‘pair’ got a price from the scrap man who in turn made a deal with my dad. 

A convoluted story but I remember the delight in a comfortable pair of shoes that might withstand the rigours of river life.