Anyone who knows me well will know that, for the past decade, I’ve been wearing French Ranger boots. I’ve walked my way through several pairs, only getting rid when the soles have worn through. I’ve always bought them from the same place without a problem, but for some reason last year, I thought I should save a couple of quid and get them from Ebay instead, fool that I am. And it was literally a couple of quid, as well. I didn’t save a spectacular amount of money.
They arrived and woe me, the sizing was out. Instead of doing the responsible thing that would involve sending them back, asking for a refund then proceeding to buy another pair from my usual seller, a little voice in my head said ‘you just need to wear them in, they’ll be fine!’ I wore them in. They were not fine. If I forgot to wear two pairs of socks with them, my feet were fucked in five minutes. I toughed it out for almost a year but then enough was enough.
And so the hunt for new boots began…when you’ve been wearing the same boots for ten years, buying a new pair isn’t an easy feat. I spent about a week mulling over the number of holes, the size of the sole, the shade of black. I even took to Facebook to ask for advice. Eventually I settled on a 14 hole, matte black pair from English brand Grinders.
It was an anxious wait and when they arrived, I expected them not to fit because that’s just my luck. But the god’s must have thought ‘ahh, she needs a break, this one!’ because they made my feet extremely happy.
I Thrifted A Leather Jacket
My leather jacket is living in Sweden at the moment, and I don’t know when I’m going to see it again. I’ve been feeling lost without it. I’ve been missing the weight of it on my back. I’ve been missing absent-mindedly fondling its tassels. I’ve been missing hunting for yet another safety pin to repair the ever widening rip that adorns the front of it. So I made a vow to find it a sister.
The first thrifting outing produced dozens of imitation leathers, but nothing genuine and in my size. I resigned myself to the idea that I’d have to buy a new one and shell out, quite probably, over a hundred quid. But I thought I’d give it another shot. So I went on my second expedition and the very last store I went into it, I found this beauty. I whipped it off the rail and clutched it to my chest, imagining that the other folk in the store would turn on me for it. I felt giddy as I paid the £8.50 asking price. Since it came home with me, I’ve been practically sleeping in it, afraid someone is going to come along and ask for it back.
I Was Photographed Performing Poetry
I’m not good with folks taking photos of me, I always fret about my fucking face, but one person I can trust is my friend, the photographer Kev Howard. The other night I headlined at a poetry event called DiVerse in Saltburn and Kev captured my set.
I’m Less Anxious About Writing Emails/Messages
These previous months have seen me having anxiety attacks about writing even the shortest of emails and messages. I’ve felt the need to apologise repeatedly to people for not being able to articulate myself properly. (I still partially feel that need right now, as I’m writing to you.) It’s the first time, in my life, that I’ve had to grapple for words and it’s felt strange and oh so uncomfortable.
But this week, something shifted, and it started to become not so stressful to respond to Facebook messages and send off emails. I found that I was able to locate the words I wanted a little bit easier. I found that I wasn’t re-checking what I’d written dozens upon dozens of times. I still have a long way to go before I can be confident in my writing again – and there are some aspects that haven’t come back yet, like poetry – but I’m on my way.
Other Things That are Worth A Mention
- I watched Midsommar. The best thing about it had to be the soundtrack.
- I managed to listen, and I mean PROPERLY listen to some music. Here’s what I had in my ears: Forgotten Woods, Forest Silence, Fjord and Grifteskymfning.
- “What are your plans for today?” “To hang on.” This has been the exchange between me and my mum for several months now. Yesterday I had the opportunity to try a new medication. Hopefully my days of just ‘hanging on’ are numbered. Hopefully they’ll be replaced with days where I discover again what it means to love life.