My Uncle Fred, who mended shoes as well as being in the Navy, had a work bench in his shed that looked just like the one in this picture. I can smell the lovely scent of leather even now, as I remember childhood.
A skill that's getting harder to find-- and "while you wait" is a real gift.
I don't know why (well, I do, because this is about shoes - dur!) but I thought of the first verse of Plath's 'Daddy', her bittersweet poem about her father.You do not do, you do not doAny more, black shoeIn which I have lived like a footFor thirty years, poor and white,Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.I love the way she uses this imagery to communicate a sense of oppression.
friko the smell of leather and polish and the sounds of spinning buffers and of course the leathery hands of the cobbler himself sing out from this little image. it's lovely. steven
'If asked to walk a mile, invite to walk two together.'A wonderful weekend, filled with nice roads ahead of you.
On the school walk last year we were all introduced to the old cobbler who used to mend and make shoes and sabots and I htought then how lucky are we of a generation who actaully had shoes mended or made by hand not mass produced in some far flung place!
They are a dying breed, Cobblers, now that we have throw away shoes for a tenner. Shame. Cobbler Cobbler mend my shoeBring it back by halfpast two.
jinksy - a cobbler of your very own!Margaret Pangert - it sure isFran - how are the students getting on with Plath? I stlll have a way to go before she becomes a favourite. I am working on it!steven - thank you for that, stevenrobert - lovely thought, roberther-at-home - having shoes mended now is almost an anachronismMoannie - bring it back? the few cobblers and keycutter shops combined in the supermarket precincts wouldn't dream of it!
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