Tom left home for university last weekend. He left behind I what I call his ‘Bertie Basset’ shoes, he’s consigned them to the bin, they are shoes that have worked and played hard, latterly in the kitchens of the village pub, can you tell?
I hold his Bertie Bassets in as much affection as I do his very first shoes, little Clarks blue T bar shoes, with a racing car embroidered on the the front, bought of course from the special shoe shop*. I still have those shoes in a box in the loft, as you do, with birth cards and his first drawings from nursery. As mementos of my sons journey to adulthood and setting off out into the wide world.
However, on reflection, I’ve decided that a photo of these shoes will suffice, I don’t need to keep them; the worn shoes of a teenager are a very different thing to those of a toddler!
*If I read that post, from 2007, I’ll start crying again, I know I will.