It’s another long-overdue boot polishing day. 🙂
Or, as my great-grandfather occasionally termed it (when great-grandmother wasn’t about), ‘bullying the boots’. Not that I can find that slang translation anywhere these days.
Great-grandfather taught me how to work a decent shine in, smiling when he mentioned I’d not need ‘spit shine’ unless I joined up. Ever since he taught the demon that masqueraded as his eldest grandson how to do that, he started a legacy within me: things that a gentleman should be able to do, and not be embarrassed about.
Decades passed before a Peruvian bootblack on the streets of Lima showed me how to mix solvent and polish to redeem badly perished leathers. My work boots have survived twenty years, thanks to that.
For all the marvellous things I’ve been able to do, all the luck I’ve had and all the damn hard work that always seems to accompany good fortune, working a thorough shine into my boots still makes the young savage within me proud.