For want of a nail a shoe was lost.

Well, actually, there was no nail. I mean, there was no nail wanting. What there was wanting was that I should have taken my favourite boots to the shoemaker years ago before they got to the state they’re in. I bought these boots in 1980 when I was a university student. Cowboy boots were all the rage that season, and that’s all there was to be found in all the shoe stores. Except, as I gazed forlornly at the shelves, the helpful salesperson said, “We have some half-price samples in size 6,” and I responded brightly, “I’m a size 6!”

I love those boots. They’re black, with a toe that is neither pointy nor round, heels that are sort of like cowboy boot heels, knee high, and a little decorative strap and buckle around the ankle. The leather of the foot and shaft are still good, but the soles are completely shot.

I brought them and another pair of boots, cheap faux suede slouch boots with a wedge heel that I bought at Canada’s discount department store chain when my brother was here last summer. They’re really nice, but cheap, and the bottoms have a crêpe sole that started coming up and ripping at the heel the first time I wore them outside. So I asked the shoemaker if he could put on a hard, leather heel, and that’s quite doable. For the other boots, however, he said that it’s not worth repairing them, that they’ve reached the end of the road.

I was in despair. I wandered in and out of shoe stores, actually finding a pair that would be a good replacement, except they weren’t in my size. In one store I showed the salesgirl my old boot (which I had with me) and she suggested I try a store that sells biker’s wear. When I told my tale of woe to some friends at the concert I attended last night, I was told that I should seek another shoemaker, and one was suggested to me.

The concert was a classical guitarist and a lutenist who also played the secundo for guitar duets after the intermission. They were pleasant enough, except that I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to guitar and lute playing, so I noticed all the errors. It was still an enjoyable evening.

Today we had a three-hour long rehearsal for Elijah which left me with a raw throat. We were directed by the symphony conductor who will be leading us in the concert. It was quite a revelation working with a musician who can actually hear things. I’m so used to Herr Doktor asking people if there are any problems in the sections. He should be able to hear that there are, for Pete’s sake!

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