I am moved by Lady Percy 's expression of love. CLICK HERE - see if you agree.
Otherwise my novels, short stories, verse, family, music, memories, vulgar interests, detestations,
responses, apologies. I hold posts to 300 words* having found less is better than more.
I re-comment on comments and re-re-re-comment on re-re-comments.
* One exception: short stories.

Monday, 24 August 2015

Feet to walk to Scunthorpe
Or to do the ootchy-koo

Today I pick up my prescription glasses, in effect my reading glasses. During the two cataract ops my eyes received lenses that made them great for long distances, horrible close up. That's the choice: it's either that or the other way round.

Ever since the first op, back in November, I've made do with with cheapo reading glasses bought at the pharmacy for £5 ($7.50). Today's new glasses are spec'd exactly for my eyes. I can't wait. How I've cossetted my eyes in the interim, how I've ignored other parts of my body.

Time to look elsewhere. My feet are to be found at the southern end of my legs.

Considering my height (6ft 1½in. - 1.87m) my feet aren't all that big at 10½ (Euro 44.5, US 11). However, they're far from perfect. Since I retired twenty years ago I've worn nothing but trainers. As a result my feet have become as soft as a baby's bottom and pebbly beaches are just murder.

I suspect I wore cheap shoes during WW2, the formative years. Thus the fourth toe (left or right from the Big One) is hooked sideways. Tight shoes would kill me, hence trainers.

My feet are quite wide and I'm glad of that; I'm less likely to topple over. Were I a woman I'd look terrible in stilettos; since I'm a man (the jury's out) even worse.

Parts of the right foot lack sensation, the byproduct of a sciatica attack five or six years ago. I don't balance well on one foot so I've ruled out becoming an acrobat.

VR profits from my feet: hers are tiny and the tininess is enhanced in my company.

Technology fascinates me but I wouldn’t swap my feet for prosthetics. Maintenance adds up to a monthly wash.


  1. I needed general specs at 40 and for a while they suited, near and far. As I motorcycled and was involved in historical re-enactment I also took to contact lenses, which were so convenient that I wore them all the time. Eventually I needed reading glasses so went for bi-focals - continuing with the contacts with a pair of cheapo specs for close work. I could have had vari-focal contacts but I tried them and the resulting vertigo decided me against them.
    Contacts have not been needed for a number of years now (regretfully) and I have recently made Specsavers a tad richer with new bi-focals.
    Like you, RR, I am finding trainers more comfortable for "wooden" feet and tingling legs.

  2. Try Birkenstocks?

    Funny, we were recalling that song the other day, having not thought of it for years. One of those occasions when the parody is more popular and better remembered than its source. Tom tells me Bernard Breslaw was a clever chap, though I'm not sure on what he bases this assertion.

  3. Avus: Following my experience bi-focals are for those whose cerebral lobes long since ceased to communicate with each other. "Two Brains", if you like, but both much, much smaller than the standard issue.

    Lucy: I needed to check Birkenstocks but they don't apply. Chances are they would reveal I am a life-long support-hose wearer and thus - according to the views of most Western women - utterly devoid of sex appeal. I think Tom should be taxed further about Bresslaw. He may well have been author of a privately published volume of poetry, Ode to the Dead Sea Scrolls, but I'm not sure that's sufficient evidence.

  4. I refuse to rise to the bait, RR!

  5. Rising to the bait is a fishy feint; you'd be better off insisting you were never going to swallow it

  6. In The-World-of-Blonde, hair is cosseted, feet are neglected. Hence I have the tresses of a storm nymph and the trotters of a lizard (and that is on a good day!)

  7. Your feet look like they posed for Mickey's shoes in the Sorcerer's Apprentice. Did they?

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  9. Your Golden Years have come at last. I think of you dear RR and fill my glass. Santé!

  10. Blonde Two: Not surprising really. Since that tremulous day when I first met you both, you've ceased to be people and have become a brand - world renowned. Like MacDonalds, Brasso and Marmite. But beyond the executive limousines, the executive loo, the American Express credit card and the free tickets to Glastonbury there is the uncrushable desire to express yourself. My felicitations on "storm nymph" and "trotters".

    Crow: You're suggesting my feet act independently of their master. It's quite possible. Very occasionally, when putting on my underpants, I try the unsupported plunge - ie, first one foot then the other. It rarely works cleanly and I womble dangerously. My feet, neglected for four-fifths of a century, are finally calling in their dues.

    As to the Dukas piece, I took against it. In trying to arouse interest in music at my primary school, my teachers misguidedly thought we should be exposed to pieces which "told a story". But alas even Beethoven slipped down a couple of notches when he tried such a work with The Pastoral Symphony. Kids respond to good tunes and positive rhythms and years were to elapse before I came upon such a work (also by Beethoven but this time the Fifth) and then I was away with one of the loves of my life.

    My feet may well be posing, however. Glancing at the computer keyboard and saying to each other: "We could do this."

    Ellena: Golden years? Well, there's something heavy in my legs but I always thought it was lead. But I thank you for the thought.