These Boots Are Made For . . .

It only took two years to find them.

Deep in the bowels of stately Droog Towers there lay a box, forgotten and unopened, tucked away in a quiet corner where even the spiders had died of boredom. And it came to pass that, purely by accident, I dropped another box of assorted domestic knick-knacks and noticed the unopened box. The label on it read 'Lounge: Books'. Thinking that this might be where my copy of Bradshaw had gone, I ripped off the tape - and found all my missing footwear. My winter boots, my jump boots, a pair of suede Chelseas, my leather slippers, my beloved Loblans, all were there, albeit in a rather sorry state. Joy before the angels of God!

I spent the afternoon brushing, polishing, shampooing and renovating each pair lovingly; I had missed them so.

These are my cowboy boots. I bought these in 1992 and they are still going strong. I have worn them pretty much everywhere I have been in the past 23 years, including on active service. And no, I do NOT line dance. Tomorrow, I am going to take them for a walk.

I am a happy camper.