A eulogy

I wasn't sure if "eulogy" was the right word. I gave the definition a Google and feel it is.
Just over four years ago, someone bought me a pair of shoes, and a few weeks ago they fell apart beyond repair.

Didn't have me pegged as a person who would be moved by losing a pair of shoes from her wardrobe? Let me tell you that these weren't any old shoes.

They cost £3, came from Primark, and were brown, lace-up wedge heels with a fabric, like, cuff, around the top. I don't know what it's called I never buy shoes. You're not reading the words of a shoe fanatic, you're reading the words of a practicality fanatic.

At first they were just a pair of shoes that made me look about three inches taller, it took me until the following summer for me to realise they had super powers.

Perhaps not super powers, but you've got to respect that fact that these were a pair of three quid Primark shoes that took a lot of wear and tear.

Over the summer I went to Edinburgh with my rents and as I've mentioned time and time again, it's a place of hills and long, tiring days of walking. In fact, on a more recent trip to Edinburgh, I wrote about running across the city in these heels. These shoes could tackle twelve hours of the hills, day in, day out, not slowing me down, regardless of the percentage ascent.

Over the course of the time I've had them, I've worn them everywhere. They've seen Edinburgh many a time, they've seen walks through Scottish and Welsh countryside, they've seen festivals and many a trip up Sheffield's ridiculous hills, I've ran for buses too many times in these shoes, I once ran through Crewe train station in a mad panic in these shoes. In fact, I've ran through so many train stations in these shoes. London? Yep. Rock City? Too often. Lincoln? Yeah. In fact...

The shoes have been in a terrible state for a long time. But as some of you might have noticed, I rather value practicality over, say, fashion, or whatever. On a boozy trip to Lincoln, the shoes began to break, with the lace in the right shoe snapping. I hobbled back to the halls I was staying at and the next day, like the hypothetical Boy Scout I am, I removed the lace, tied it back together, and made my way back out to Stoke. Nailed it.

A few weeks after that, the sole straight up broke away from the shoe and I realised how terrible they were and that they needed to go.

It's no secret that I'm absolutely terrible at buying shoes. Back in college it was easy to find me as I was the one wearing the flowery Docs. It was a bit of a thing when I didn't wear them.

Thing was, these brown shoes were an answer and bar to any situation I could need - except where something specific like sandals or hiking boots would be needed. For someone who only cares a bit about what they look like, they went with almost every outfit.

Buying shoes isn't really a thing I do. I last bought shoes in November, and that was half a ploy to cheer myself up, and half because they were on sale.

I've lost the thing that was always there for me, and for the past three weeks I've been wearing some pretty ratty Converse in denial.

Tell me again how Primark is low quality?

A sheulogy.

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