Shoes.

As a child I never paid much attention to shoes, especially as a boy. Maybe to girls they bare more significance, but for me, they claimed none. I do remember getting my first pair of converses when I was 11, though. It was exciting – they were expensive and popular and came in all these different designs and colours. I for one wanted the black ones with the flames on the heel. They were awesome. But I decided to go with Hi-top Blue ones. They had that new rubbery smell and were really tight to fit into at first. My feet are especially wide so it takes a while for new shoes to mould to the shape of my oddness. I remember wearing them for the first time out after my Mum had said “Don’t get marks on them!” and worrying over-precautiously about scuffing them on the pavement. I did. I rubbed frantically at the mark and it disappeared, thankfully. I took great pride in them, cleaning them with Kitchen cleaner on the rubber soles. I even went a step further on my first trip to Camden by buying some checkered shoelaces. I wanted to put the laces on straight away so I walked down to the loch with my mates and put them on then and there, ditching my old worn out white ones. I still have them and they still sort of fit, but I have cooler shoes nowadays.