Today is merely a continuation of yesterday. Work somehow merges the weekend into one big day that only seems to last the length of a normal day. Life, eh. Before I know it I’ll be married with 3.1 children in surround sound…
I went out with my mum again, first to the dump and then to find her some shoes. A surprising number of people want to dump goods on a Sunday lunchtime. I guess Sunday is the DIY/gardening day. We had left some of our gardening bags for so long, procrastinating the trip to the dump, that they had started to ferment at the bottom. A… vibrant smell I can tell you now.
But yeh, anyway. I managed to persuade my mum to get two pairs of shoes. She doesn’t really spend money on herself and the shoes were different enough that my persuasions were justified and succeeded. Score! 😀 I also managed to get myself a lovely pair of leather ankle-high boots with my mum paying for half. Score x2! 😀
I was sitting in the shop looking at all the shoes and thinking of what their intended purpose was. Originally we skinned some animals lower in the food chain so we could run from the ones higher up (think big lions, heh). I guess weather and terrain conditions were actually closer to the real reasons and probably to escape some of the bugs crawling around and nipping at our toes. Still, whatever the reason, we weren’t so fussed on what they looked like as long as they protected us. Thinking about where the difference came in immediately made me think of the rich, but it was probably a little bit before then. I bet there was one man who was better at skinning and stitching than the rest and he became the cobbler. Of course, when you have a job title your trade becomes your product and there becomes a standard of quality. That man would not have been the only shoe-maker in the village and they would have competed in quality and price. So thus becomes the difference. The rich get the best, the poor get the leftovers and as time goes on and costs change and the rich get bored, new shoes are made with slight differences, introducing style. Well, this is how I imagine it. Could be total codswallop.
We got back home in time to watch Britain beat Italy in the boxing (YEEESSSSS!!!!) and when that was over the phone rang. My mum picked it up and started listening intently before going upstairs to pass it to my dad. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but it sounded like an automated message so was a little confused as to why they were paying so much attention to it. I was trying to get my mum’s attention to find out what was wrong as my dad was going ‘oh god’ to the phone. I immediately thought that there was some tax or government thing that had caught us out and we had lost all our money or something. I have to say that this is a selfish thought considering the truth, but at the time seemed reasonable considering the situation.
When my dad had finished with the phone he explained that one of his closest friends, a family friend, had cancer of the oesophagus. Makes my original thoughts seem a little self-obsessed. His wife had texted the home phone which is why it was read out in an automated voice. I have to say that that was the last thing that I was expecting to hear out of the blue. This man smokes a lot and always has, but we don’t talk to him or his family enough to keep up with the news. As far as I could tell they messaged us as soon as they had confirmed the diagnoses. Certainly leaves me with complicated thoughts.