Hubby huffed and shrugged and glowered as only he can, in a semi helpless way. I left him to it. Two hours later I found him in front of a mountain of shoe boxes. He has more shoes than can be found in a large shoe shop. He had begrudgingly selected a pair that he felt he would no longer be able to wear. They were to go to the charity shop.
I must say that I highly approved of his choice. There in front of me, pristine and shiny was a pair of ghastly tan shoes. ‘Tan’ doesn’t quite describe the colour of these shoes but to do so would involve a vulgar description involving the words ‘cat’, and ‘sick’. Goodness knows when or why he had bought them. Maybe they were fashionable in the seventies.
He frowned and scratched his head.
‘I don’t want to get rid of them. I’ve never worn them.’ (I could see why he hadn’t worn them.) ‘I just can’t get them to match with any of my clothes so I suppose they’ll have to go. They are beautifully made though,’ he sighed.
He was right. They were a beautifully made, pair of disgusting coloured shoes. Good thing they were going. I bundled them into a bag before he could change his mind, and the next day I dropped them off at the charity shop. The lady looked in the box with a dismayed expression.
‘They’re expensive shoes,’ she said. ‘But, who would want that colour? I’ll put them up for five pounds and hope someone wants them. Maybe they’ll buy them for gardening.’
I had to agree. They really were not everyone’s cup of tea. Hopefully someone would be willing to shell out a few pounds though. It is for charity after all.
Later that day Hubby came into the kitchen looking even more glum than usual.
‘What’s the problem?’ I asked.
‘Found this,’ he said holding up a belt the same colour cat....I mean tan as the shoes.
‘Okay, I’ll take it to the shop tomorrow,’ I replied. ‘At least you’ve cleared a couple of things out of your wardrobe.’
He nodded gloomily and like Eeyore plodded back to his room, head down, disheartened.
The following day, he said he’d take the belt to the charity shop after he had been to the supermarket, as I had to go to the Post Office. On my way back I passed the shop. The same lady from a couple of days ago was outside putting up a poster.
‘Hello,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I sold those shoes you brought in.’
‘What a surprise. My husband should be by soon with a matching belt maybe the person would like that too,’ I suggested.
‘Oh, I expect so. He didn’t hesitate when he saw them. He said they were very good quality and he thought they were very cheap at five pounds.’
I met Hubby later and told him that his shoes had gone to a good home. He looked at me sheepishly.
‘Well, once I found the belt. I thought I could probably match them up with a pair of greenish trousers I have.’
In the boot of the car I could see the boomerang tan coloured shoes.
‘Well, they are very good quality,’ said Hubby.