23 years, bling shoes and baldness

 Yesterday Ange and I have been married for 23 years.  That's a surprise, the fast flowing river of time.  It called for a celebration, and so we broke out the glad rags (including the damn fine black and whites, freshly polished) and went to a wonderful restaurant - a rare thing in the past so many covid months.

I was trying to work out where it was that I got psychologically hooked on this type of shoe.  I think it was in Marabastad (does that even exist any more) with a Pretoria News photographer, Walter Pitso, in about 1986.  It took me years to find a pair that fitted.  I can remember getting Roy, Ange's brother, to take me to downtown Durban once to look for a pair. Eventually I found these in New York around 6 years ago.  They are Doc Martens - doubly cool, with an air sole :-)

  

All this passage of time stuff. The cool part of where it is that one eventually goes bald is that you have to make an effort to see there.  Mobile phone cameras are a disaster.  Bloody hell.