Tuesday, 6 January 2015

Slippers

You see, it's an Antiquarian's right of passage when one becomes a Society Rambler, to have good quality slippers.
Imagine the excitement.
Waking up, breakfasting on English muffins and poached egg, reading the daily Trumpington Bugle and preparing one's attire to stroll up city.
With a pocketful of coinage and delicious expectation, slipper hunting is on.
Gazing through product adorned windows, eyes darting, flitting and searching for the perfect pair.
Leather uppers, rubber soles, tufted cotton, suede, tartan, tweed, printed, brown, cream, white, racing green, red, blue, corduroy, foam, flat, heels, open toed, buckles - Colonel Hampton's (deceased) teeth by Jove, what is a Ragged member to choose.
A pair says a lot about the Antiquarian.


One esteemed member has a number of pairs for specific locations throughout his abode.
One for indoors downstairs, one for upstairs, one for the kitchen, one for outdoor whilst crossing the patio to the shed, one for in the shed. Trouble ensues though, when encountering the stairs. Does one wear the downstairs pair to the upstairs pair or wear the upstairs pair to the downstairs pair. A recent conundrum posed to the Society via handwritten mail, heralded a genius answer - "buy a transition pair Sir!" A pair to go up and down in to arrive at the waiting pair in either location. Gads man there are some brilliant minds in the collective.

There are some miscreant pretenders to be found at the footwear purveyors though. Namely sock slippers! What ever possessed the human race to even conjure such ill- conceived monstrosities. Socks with little lumps of squidgy substances bonded to their soles to pretend to be slippers! No! Stand up for real slippers.



- Posted using BlogPress from my newspaper

1 comment:

  1. Egad! Why, when they buried me they got the wrong slippers. I had clearly stated I was to be buried wearing my Deceased Slippers, however they put me in my Lounge Slippers instead! Fopdoodles one and all! I'm stuck with the bloody things for eternity now, and all the time haunted by the thought of a lovely, snug pair of tartan Deceases Slippers gathering dust in a box labelled 'Snuffed It!' Pfnish!!!

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