Wearing My Boots At HomeI fell in love with my wellington boots when I was twelve years old. I felt grown up wearing my boots. Things happened that had never happened to me before. First I found myself getting into trouble at school which I had not done before. I felt that I was being 'picked on' and punished by teachers. I was slippered once when I dropped my pen on the floor. The teacher said that I was wasting time. Another time I was slippered because I made a 'rude' noise. What had happened was that my boots had rubbed together under the desk and made a squeaking sound for which I was slippered.
But I liked wearing my boots and I also started to like being punished. I preffered the slipper across my arse but I was happy with a slipper or cane across my hand.
I started wearing my boots all the time, being in school or with my friends.
Of course when I got home I did not want to take them off.
My parents were very keen that I should work hard at school. I must admit that I was not so keen to work hard but every evening when I was told to work on my homework I would happily walk upstairs with my work.
Up stairs in my room I could do my homework if I wished but quess what the first thing was that I always did. Yes of course you guessed it. I pulled on my boots. I sat there working hard, which kept my parents happy, whilst wearing my boots on my feet. From time to time they would bring me a coffee or piece of cake but they would never come into the room as they did not want to stop me working. They would leave it outside the door so that I could get it when necessary.
This all worked perfectly and it became my routine every night. In fact it worked so well that one night I was working and realised that I needed a book that I had left downstairs. Without thinking I automatically got up and went downstairs to the table where I knew it was, picked up the book and went into the kitchen and asked my mother for something to drink. She gave me some orange and I went back upstairs.
It was only when I got back to my room that I realised what I had done. I had walked passed my mother wearing my boots. She must have noticed that I was wearing my boots.
Back in my room I tried to continue with my work but my heart was beating from what I had done. I wanted to go downstairs again to see if they would take any notice this time. I decided to go downstairs and ask for a drink. I could feel myself shaking as I was worried what my parents might say when they saw my boots. Would they tell me off or even worse, laugh at me.
I went downstairs and asked my mother if we had any lemonade left. She pointed to a cupboard which I opened and took out a bottle. I then had to get a glass, pour out the drink, return the bottle to the cupboard and as I was about to leave she said "wait a minute, you can have a biscuit as well" and she brought me the biscuit barrel for me to pick from. My heart was thumping. When was she going to notice my boots. When was she going to ask me why I was wearing them indoors?
It never happened. She must have seen that I was wearing my boots but she had ignored them.
Did that mean that I could wear them around the house all the time?