Wet weather boots

‘Foot – foot – foot – foot – sloggin’ over Africa — / (Boots – boots – boots – boots – movin’ up and down again!).’ I do like Rudyard Kipling. I know I’m not supposed to. Trigger warning: empire, jungle stereotypes, microaggressions against monkeys, cultural appropriation of other people’s elephants. But what a stomping great marching poem ‘Boots’ is.

Learn at least the first verse by heart: it’s the right rhythm for walking when the rain comes on and you’re miles from home. Boots–boots–boots–boots. Imagine the dust stamped up from the veld. The other one to sing under your breath in a downpour is: ‘She’ll be comin’ round the mountain (when she comes).’ It rouses even the dampest spirits.

You can brave any weather with the right boots, and British boots are the best in the world. They must be waterproof. None of this rubbish about ‘water-protected’. That’s what shoe shops say about boots to get you from the front door to the bus stop. Fine for mizzle and a puddle, but not up to Sunday walks in the mire. You want the tough stuff: ‘Gore-Tex’, ‘all-weather’, ‘rubber membrane’.

I learnt the hard way. For a walking holiday on the Sussex Downs I pitched up in ten-year-old Russell & Bromleys. Soles, heels and laces replaced each time they wore thin. Never a crack in the leather. And, damn them, they leaked. Half an hour into the first morning, halfway up a hill. The first heart-sinking squelch. Then three hours’ walking until lunch, socks soggier every step. Squelch — squelch — squelch — squelch — sloggin’ over Eastbourne cliffs. That decided me. No more high-street lace-ups. I went to Clarks for the first time since nursery shoe-fittings, and bought a pair of Gore-Tex walkers.