‘Keep your feet fit, Geordie Hinny’
My wife once gave me a wonderful birthday present – a celebrity chef, weekend cookery course at a snazzy hotel in Yorkshire. As a small group of keen cooks we learned a lot, spending two days in a fabulously equipped kitchen. We listened to and watched the maestro, selected, prepared and cooked the meals and then served them to our partners. It was great. I got a certificate, some tasty recipes and bought a large Moulin Legumes (which I still use regularly to make perfect mashed potatoes). However, after two days in that kitchen, I do remember that my feet were tired and sore but really thought nothing of it.
A few years later I gave my wife an anniversary present of a spa weekend for two in Northumberland. I planned to eat well, relax and take some pleasant country strolls whilst my wife did the various treatments. However, when the heavy snow and strong winds blew in, I found myself at the entrance to the spa peering doubtfully at a ‘menu’ of experiences with my wife looking over my shoulder. ‘What about a Swedish Massage? Hot Stones?’. I chose Aroma Therapy Reflexology where you just had to roll up your trousers rather than strip and cover up with a small towel. My feet were massaged with essential oils (very pleasant). Then they were covered with little blue plastic bags. ‘Now just lay back and relax while the oils do their work for twenty minutes’ said the therapist. As she left, the lights dimmed, soft music played and I burst into tears. Not loud sobs you understand but a full pet lip and tears streaming. I had recovered by the time the therapist returned to wipe down my feet. Socks and shoes back on and trousers readjusted I started to walk out of the spa. ‘How was that sir?’ said the receptionist. ‘Great’ I replied and then told her about the tears. ‘Oh, don’t worry, that’s not uncommon’ she said. Well, it is for me, I thought!
Since then, I’ve wondered about those tears. Were they my feet’s tears? Tears of joy maybe. This sudden love after years and years in dank and darkness, plodding on relentlessly through ill-fitting, inappropriate shoes, bruised and ingrowing toenails, hard skin, untreated fungi, bunions, corns and most recently agonising plantar fasciitis. I now try to look after my feet and at a loss to offer much useful advice to children and grandchildren (beyond being sure to wear layers) I now urge them to do the same. You should too.
Jamie Thompson