I remember the day I chucked my Chucks.
They had holes in the soles, the fabric’d worn so thin they should have fallen apart. Neither made me want to part with them.
It took Mum to come into my room and put her foot down.
‘Enough is enough,’ she said, ‘those shoes of yours are a disgrace.’
‘You don’t understand what they mean to me – they’re part of my identity.’
‘I understand better than you think. Let me show you something.’
In a box in the attic, her own Chucks, worn to pieces, lovingly wrapped in tissue paper.
What, it’s already week 4 of FFfPP? How time flies…