Liadnan

My father gave me many pieces of advice, some of which I followed. One of the more idiosyncratic was "never wear clothes with writing on". His particular loathing was for carrying an advert around on his clothes: he considered that if he was going to do that, even for a product he liked (the usual scapegoat was Guinness) he ought to be paid for it.

While it isn't the most important thing he ever told me, it's something I have actually observed, by and large. I own almost no clothing with writing or indeed logos or pictures, not only not adverts for Guinness but also nothing advertising the clothing manufacturer itself (this is of course a Snare and an Abomination in the Eyes of the Lord in any event, or if not that at least naff), nothing with external labels except my jeans, no band t-shirts or sweat shirts, and nothing with some terribly witty slogan. I think I do have have a couple of ancient t-shirts from shows I was in at university and also, I think, one Glastonbury 94 t-shirt and a Proms 95 t-shirt. None of which ever see the light of day. A pair of college trackie-bottoms, which I wear in bed when I'm cold, and a sweatshirt for some society or other. Oh, and some ancient school ties and a college tie count I suppose. And a scarf. And that's the lot.

All of which is no doubt terribly pretentious and I'm not particularly suggesting that anyone else should follow this line. But I was trying to work out why, precisely, those bloody charity wrist bands irritate me so much.

Has there been a run on the leather market, and I unaccountably missed it? Were all reasonably-competent cobblers and members of allied trades recently killed in a freak accident on their annual skiing trip?

I think not.

So why precisely, is it now impossible to find a pair of properly-made normal black shoes which one doesn't need to consider having specifically insured?

Incidentally, various women write of things called "manolos" and "blahniks", also of "Jimmy Choos". What, in the name of buggery, are such things?

Perhaps, after all, there is one reason for wanting to be a hobbit: the enormous savings on footwear.

***

My recent bout of illness left me spending several chunks of last week in bed. I tried, indeed I did, to concentrate on work of two kinds: reading a very dense book about the architecture of Hagia Sophia and reading the Commonhold Act, but I failed. Instead, I made my way through Abhorsen, the last of Garth "I have a very silly name" Nix' sequence, and The Light Ages by Ian Macleod (a book that first caught my attention because I thought it was from that other M[a]cleod of the clan Macleod, Ken). The latter reminds me of Colin Greenland's Harm's Way more than anything else/ Both well worth reading, reviews, and a host of backlog reviews, coming shortly. Also currently reading Death and the Penguin, which is impressive so far. The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break is next up, though the only real reason I bought it was that it's on £5 special offer (along with lots of other things from Canongate) in Foyles.