Back in the days of a strong $ I found myself in London and in a moment of whimsy, I bought my dad a pair of embroidered velvet slippers. Yes, from a real live small English shoe store, not from S&W. I pictured Pop in a tweed jacket with suede elbow patches, in an armchair, leafing through a cherished volume of P.G.Wodehouse, OurDog snoozing at his velvet-covered feet. I made a guess at the size, and picked an embroidered motif which was not someone else's family crest. Pop loved the slippers, I was relieved that my wild guess at his shoe size had been accurate, and the rest of the mental picture - didn't matter. Here's the key point: they were slippers. They were to be worn inside the house. And that is how Pop wore them, and they lasted a very long time indeed. OurDog slobbered when he snoozed, so he was not allowed near the slippers, whether they were on Pop or off Pop. That, plus British craftsmanship, helped.
I leave you with the thought of the day:
It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But the half-wit remains a half-wit, and the emperor remains an emperor.
|Also Not Pop, but note sensible slippers.|