Is the sensible wellington boot at an all time low or has it had a rebirth to dominate the fashion world? Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington, modified the hessian boot to go with new fangled trouser wearing. This takes us back to 1817 and the wellington has stuck around ever since.
Mine never seem to last that long - I suspect that jumping onto a spade pogo-style cuts down on their longevity. Cracks, splits and holes appear all too quickly. And so a trip to the local boot supplier. I love this shop. The car park is hemmed in by serious amounts of tractorware. New shiney red Case tractors are lined up; at the back lurk combine harvesters worth more than my house. Reels of barbed wire and Growbags are hard up against the car bumper and a down to earth signs catch my eye: “ 25kg of potatoes £5.50, 25 kg salt tablets £5.95” oh and “wellies from £9.95”.
The build up goes on inside with water butts and rotavators and every gauge of straining bolt. Now the boot display is right in front of me. What is going on here? The Argyll and Dunlops of this world have been sent fleeing (sensible black and a grey-green workaday boot from the world of rubber). In their place a bunch of interlopers. Who is this Joules who splatters boots with beagles or spots? What has happened to the Hunter brigade who have rendered soft rubber into Bob the builder’s yellow and Barbie’s pink? I retreat bootfaced and empty handed next door to the Field Sports shop.
From frivolous to heavy metal. Parcours Iso (neoprene lined) at £140 is all very well but what a lot of money and I suspect will not be able to pick my own feet up. Parcours? no-one could jump anywhere in these clompers. I go home bootless and foot-loose.
Is the sensible wellington boot at an all time low or has it had a rebirth to dominate the fashion world? Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington, modified the hessian boot to go with new fangled trouser wearing. This takes us back to 1817 and the wellington has stuck around ever since.
Mine never seem to last that long - I suspect that jumping onto a spade pogo-style cuts down on their longevity. Cracks, splits and holes appear all too quickly. And so a trip to the local boot supplier. I love this shop. The car park is hemmed in by serious amounts of tractorware. New shiney red Case tractors are lined up; at the back lurk combine harvesters worth more than my house. Reels of barbed wire and Growbags are hard up against the car bumper and a down to earth signs catch my eye: “ 25kg of potatoes £5.50, 25 kg salt tablets £5.95” oh and “wellies from £9.95”.
The build up goes on inside with water butts and rotavators and every gauge of straining bolt. Now the boot display is right in front of me. What is going on here? The Argyll and Dunlops of this world have been sent fleeing (sensible black and a grey-green workaday boot from the world of rubber). In their place a bunch of interlopers. Who is this Joules who splatters boots with beagles or spots? What has happened to the Hunter brigade who have rendered soft rubber into Bob the builder’s yellow and Barbie’s pink? I retreat bootfaced and empty handed next door to the Field Sports shop.
From frivolous to heavy metal. Parcours Iso (neoprene lined) at £140 is all very well but what a lot of money and I suspect will not be able to pick my own feet up. Parcours? no-one could jump anywhere in these clompers. I go home bootless and foot-loose. 
