Pompeii Boots…

While Daughts was cruising she spent some time in the Mediterranean.

Italy had three ports of call, Naples, Civitavecchia and Trapani.  Since September when she first arrived in the area she hankered after a pair of Italian leather shoes.  Who wouldn’t?

During her final week she Skyped me and said,

“Everyone else went to Pompeii but I stayed in Naples to buy me a pair of Italian shoes.  The magician has paid me for being his assistant so I’m going to look for something in my price range.”

“Pompeii?” was all I could think of to say!  Once a homeschooler always a homeschooler!

“I know!  Don’t say anything else Mum!  I know!”

We were meeting with one of Hub’s clients that afternoon so I wasn’t able to Skype join her on her excursion but she succeeded, falling in love with the perfect, softest, most comfortable pair of italian leather boots evah!

PompeiiBoots

Falling in love!

“They’re boots!”  I said stupidly!  “How are you going to fit them in your luggage?”

She had already complained that she had way too much stuff to bring home and wondered where it had all come from?

“I’ll wear them!”

Which she did.

They were lovely.  And I didn’t get a chance to closely examine them during the few days we were together in the Dallas motel because we had so many other things to do and there was time…wasn’t there?

It was during the move into her brother’s flat, heralding the final feather leaving the nest, that they were taken.

We had several suitcases and few boxes and bags which were unloaded from her car to the lobby of son’s flats.  I was on door duty, keeping an eye on the belongings and the door propped open.

We stacked everything onto the lift, rode upstairs, piled the baggage into her room and then the wail went up,

“Where’s the box with my boots?”

Where indeed!?  By the time we retraced our steps back to the lobby it had gone!

“Welcome to my flat!” said a disappointed son who was so excited to have Daughts share his living space he didn’t want anything to upset her excitement.

They filed a police report, knocked on neighbours’ doors, put up notices and alerted security.

“Don’t confront her if you see a stranger wearing your boots.” I cautioned.

“I won’t!” she said.

A few days later she told me,

“I’m over the boots now, it’s not as if I don’t have several other pairs.”

“None of them soft, Italian, leather though…” I said, “called Pompeii!”

 

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