My much loved Bertie shoes

Trawling through other peoples' blogs I've seen lots of pictures of beautiful shoes. So I thought you might like to see mine.

I have a bit of a thing for old clothes (not the 'in' thing - vintage nor yet retro), yes, old clothes, the ones you love and wear until they fall apart. Comfort of an old slipper kit that you have to negotiate your way into, threading your arm down the sleeve missing the splits and holes. The more faded and fabric-fatigued they get the better I like them. Vivian Westwood type on a bad, bad day.

In a past life I well remember roaring into the yard on my little red Fergie tractor to be met by a rep, who on seeing me seemed a trifle distracted, I couldn't work out why? It was only after he'd gone I realised that my frilly white lawn blouse had given up the will to live, exposing my left DD to the world. Alright I know it was a dairy farm but even so.

Yes, Linda, but what about the shoes?

These were bought by me in Madrid. Boy did I love those shoes, I wore them with stripy socks, I dressed them up, I dressed them down, I wore them to bed, I paddled down the garden in them. They were my best buddies until the day they died. Their final resting place is, as you see in my garden. I couldn't I let them finish up in land-fill. They now greet me every time I come in through the garden gate. I've resisted the urge to plant them up with primroses... How naff would that be!