The life of an army boot

It’s a hard life in the army you know, but being an army boot is just great. It all started hmmm ,let me see now about 70 years ago. I came in a box and was put on a shelf. I was sitting on the shelf for weeks, it was great. Every night when the last people went to bed, we had parties and dancing all night long. Oh those were the days. My bestfriend right, and I, you see, I'm left. We really make a pair. One day we were just sitting there on a self, when suddenly we were picked up and brought away. It was horrible being wobbled about in a little box, we thought it was the end of the world. When the box was opened and I was taken out. I saw this thing, it was a human. Right and I were worrying about what it was when! I smelt this terrible smell the human had put me on his foot. He got up but this time it was fun, the man went running up and down and through squelching mud and through enormous puddles. It was the best fun I ever had. After all that, we went inside, Where he rubbed this lovely wet cloth across my body and massaged me with some polish. One day it was put in this box and brought to East Timor where there were lots of other boots just like me and we marched together all day. Three years later I was going home, I said goodbye to all my shoe friends, but when my owner was going he went with out me. He forgot me; he just left me on the side of the road. But now I have a lovely family of mice living in me so its not too bad at all.

Orla