Polish

 As a child, one of my jobs of the evening was to polish my school shoes. I'd dutifully lay down some newspaper, get out the tin of polish and the shoe brush. If it was winter, this would be done in front of the fire, sitting on a foot stool. 

I'd rub the brush in a bit of polish, then run it over the shoe leather. Often, you'd let the shoes rest for a few minutes, sometimes because you had something else to do, other times because dinner was ready. Then you'd go and brush them to a shine. 

This was done daily. Often, I had to do my father's shoes too. And of course we were never allowed to use the liquid shoe polish. Always, it was a tin of Nugget or Kiwi, applied with an old brush. 

We don't do that any more - polish shoes that is. Unless you're in a job which needs polished shoes, like you're a soldier, it's something people just don't seem to do any more. 

But it's meditative. It's a repetetive action which gives you a sense of pride. You end up with shiny shoes and a little bit of self-respect. Just as I iron most of my clothes after washing (Yes, I iron t-shirts and jeans and all of my bed linen). It's a sense of pride. 

So, my shoes are ready for tomorrow, so I can put forward my best foot. Of course, I'll dress up, and put on a bit of make up, and give it my best. 

It's all a part of the game. 

Today's song: