Little red Converse

Friday, 14 February 2014

Let's get this straight: it's Valentine's Day and I'm a single lady. I'm also a lady attempting to get over a nasty round of common cold (er, I definitely lost the fight), a bit sulky over the ridiculous weather that continues to catapult the UK, a smidgen frazzled with overwork, a shade of pissy because I pledged to blog lots and yet being stupidly ill only gave me enough energy to maybe sneeze sometimes, and general huff and puff because - yes, to bring it back to square one - I'm a single lady and it's Valentine's Day. However amidst all that pent-up grr, I received a sign if there ever was one: I just glanced over on my right hand side and clocked my little red Converse all in a heart-shaped heap and in a weird materialistic/animalistic sense, my writer's block (or shall we say writer's flu?) immediately ceased to be. Let's get this straight...

You see, the weird thing is, I've had this here pair of trainers for 10 years. That's right, a pair of canvas Converse have lasted an entire decade and while I don't exactly recall the ins and outs, I guess over time they have grown to be quite symbolic. Ten years ago as a teenager, I was easily a very different person to what I stand as today. Ten years of ups and downs, glitter and trauma, all witnessed by an inarticulate pair of shoes. I probably bought them (or more likely, my Mum bought them) not thinking that they'd last a year let alone nine more, but indeed they have had a jam-packed life. They have moved with me through many houses and flatshares and watched relationships make and break. They've been to parties and many a gig and probably deserve to be washed more with all the beer spills they've had on them. They've been worn in the rain and snow and danced on dirty dry festival grounds in the blazing sunshine. They've been on countless holidays; they could easily have their own passport. Last year they even made it to Canada and dipped their toes (ha!) into the Pacific Ocean.

I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say, I guess these trainers paint a picture of my life - all the experiences I've had and all the things I've been through. For just like me, they've seen beaches and sunny days and they've rolled in the dirt. They are grubby and scuffed and have holes in them and the laces are worn and the print has all but rubbed off and the insoles are completely obliterated. Nevertheless, they are still standing. They have survived and so have I. And for that reason, I would never ever get rid of them.

I could use some new insoles though. Love thy Converse. Happy Valentine's Day ♥

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