h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I was having a clearout of old shoes this evening. Having bought a new pair of boots last week I felt it was maybe time to have a little rationalisation so I plunged into the wardrobe, peered under the bed, picked through the back door cupboard, prodded under the desk until I sat perplexedly perusing a ridiculous array of footwear. There were my winter boots, my interview shoes, two pairs of identical black work shoes, a rather bizarre pair of brown pointy ones, my trainers for the gym, my lounging about trainers, my cycling shoes, my sandals (whit?)... I thought it was women who had the shoe fixation? Clearly some of these had to go so I culled them down to the basics and put the rest in a bag for the bin. The sandals were first in, a rather daft idea from a few years ago when summer in Stirling extended to three consecutive days rather than the usual two.

But as I put them in the bag I remembered the story my mother once told me.

In early 1967 she travelled as a 16 year old bride with her 17 year old husband and me, her 3 month old son from the small Aberdeenshire market town of Turriff to the markedly rougher Fife mining town of Methil to set up home initially with my father's family. She didn't travel in trepidation on that 10 hour bus journey, she was absolutely terrified! Her only trips out of Turriff up until then had been a couple of trips to see relatives in Portknockie and one school visit to Aberdeen. Methil felt like the very ends of the world as the bus passed through places she'd only ever seen on maps or heard on the radio - Dundee, Dunfermline, Kirkcaldy ... Methil.

My father was from a large family, 5 brothers and 3 sisters, all bar one of whom still lived in the two bedroomed house in Maple Gardens where all of them had been born in the front room. His mother had died when he was young so it fell upon the eldest sister, Elsie, to take on the role of family matriarch and it was she who met my trembling mother at the door. Although the welcome was warm, as Elsie showed her up to the room which she would share with the 2 other sisters, she uttered the warning - "Last up in the mornin' gets nae shin". Struggling a little with the thick Methil accent, my mother thought the threat of having her shoes taken off her if she was late out of bed was just a joke.

That night, despite the exhaustion of the long bus ride, my mother lay awake long into the early hours. This was the first time she'd shared a bed other than her one night honeymoon with my father. Her three new sisters made the bed a cramped one and it was a long time before sleep finally took her.

She woke to find herself alone and the sound of me crying downstairs. Dressing quickly she came down to find the spot by the door where she'd put her shoes the night before was empty. As she turned to go to the kitchen she was almost knocked over by my Auntie Angela, late for school and clattering down the hall - in my mother's shoes. Her complaint to Elsie who was cradling me fell on deaf ears.

Even years later as my mother told the story you could hear the utter indignation in her voice. "Angela took my shoes!". She was never last one up again after that.

So, my excess shoes are still in the bin bag, but I think I'll be dropping them by a charity shop tomorrow rather than the bin.