I’ve finally relented. My dear old trusty walking boots have served me well for the last fifteen years and they have taken me up and down some of the highest mountains in Britain but I have to accept that they are no longer functional as protective footwear for hiking. They let in water which takes the fun out of walking through streams and jumping in every muddy puddle we come across. And they are worn and torn to death. They’ve had their day and now it’s time for them to go to recycling heaven.
What are those words from Tennyson? . . . ring out the old, ring in the new . . . not quite the season yet but hey ho, I have to throw out the old pair and start again with a brand new pair – and I must suffer all those painful blisters until they break in and mould themselves around my feet.
And here is my brand spanking new pair which are actually an olive green colour and not the brown that they appear to be in that picture. I know, not quite what Nancy Sinatra was singing about but there’s a time and a place for everything. I’m also not quite sure what I would score on the *sad* factor for taking pictures of my walking boots and then blogging about them but clearly, I’m desperate for blogging material so you will have to indulge me (well I did post a sexy YouTubey with lots of leggy babes for the men):
Bring on those Cumbrian peaks.