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john davies
notes from a small vicar
from a parish
in Liverpool, UK

    Saturday, August 05, 2006
    Walking distance
     


    It must be four years at least. Probably five. So they've lasted well, the shoes I reluctantly threw away, only after their replacements arrived by parcel at the odd time of 6.40 on a Saturday teatime. I've been walking around rainy streets with a hole in one for the past week, in anticipation.

    You see, I may be a natural when it comes to purchasing publications and digital music, and I may be a relentless promoter of walking, but I very rarely venture into shoe shops. Well, why bother when the ones you're wearing are perfectly comfortable. I guess I am a heel wrap man, for their replacements were a straight swop.

    So tonight I am bidding farewell to those soft-shoe companions who have been on me pretty much every day for perhaps 1,800 days down roads, up hills, in sandhills, pacing plush galleries, sticking to gig-room floors, kicking the back of the seat in front at footy games, pressing the car pedals over many thousand miles. I left them at home only when work commitments made me feel I ought to put my 'decent' ones on instead, but I delivered myself to most people's doorsteps in these.

    There's a good Steven Wright quote on the box of my new Hawkshead ones, which I take as direct guidance for the next five years: Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.