By: Blonde Two
Today, I must make a heart-felt and repentant apology. You are wondering now, who I have offended (I am good at this), what I have broken (and this) or what crime I have committed (never done this).
I am not apologising to a person but for a misdeed. Today, I am apologising to my walking boots for failing to polish them sooner. They are good and faithful boots and I am very fond of them. They have never let me down and I have marched them through the filthiest bogs, up the steepest hills and across many streams (hard to avoid on Dartmoor at the moment).
This pair of boots (Meindl and excellent) are my second pair and do the job very well. They are probably one of my favourite things and I get a very excited feeling of adventure when I lace them up. My first pair are in retirement in New Zealand. I couldn’t bear to part with them when the sole wore out so they live in a white cupboard, in a garage, on a farm, waiting for me to visit them each August. They like being farm boots and are still suitable for all but the most muddy of days – I will introduce you to them later this year.
Blonde One and I have had some funny experiences with boots. She has now twice ended up carrying boots, dangling from her rucksack across the moor for me. The first time was when Six Foot Blonde (son two – remember him?) was Ten Tors training with her. He needed yet another pair of super big boots (that boy cost us a lot of money) and we had to pick them up from the shop mid-weekend and do a boot swap/rendezvous at Shipley Bridge. The second time was after I broke my leg and only took one boot into the Air Ambulance with me – Blonde One took charge of the other one and ended up at – guess where – Shipley Bridge.
I am not sure that Blonde One will go there with me anymore, just in case I make her carry my boots. She is a star though and understands completely how attached you can get to your kit and how important walking boots are when you are Two Blondes Walking.