Thursday, April 06, 2006
The story of my special shoe.
Some people like Sara of mainly zaz can't wait to hear the story it seems. Well here it is Sara.
My mother was born in 1909 and she was called Mary Elizabeth Jones, two years later her brother was born. My grandfather was wounded in action a few weeks before the end of the First World Ward and died from his wounds a few months later when she was 9 years old. He`died at Christmas.
She often told me how she was dressed in black from head to toe for a whole year and then she had a few red imitation cherries on her hat to relieve the black for the next year.
Her mother had a spinster sister called Elin who was very kind to them at this time and she once took the children to the Fair. They had a wonderful day out and she bought this little shoe with the lace for my mother. She always thought the world of her shoe, but she gave it to me when I started collecting shoes. Unfortunately, one day as I was dusting I dropped the shoe and maybe you can see the cracks? I repaired it, but one piece was missing. Needles to say I was upset.
When she was 80 years old, my mother was ill and came to stay with us. She noticed the broken shoe and told me she wished she had never given it to me.