A Farewell to My Blundstone 1477s

Well, it’s time. After three solid years of hard labour, mud, rain, and general neglect, my trusty Blundstone 1477 Antique Brown Leather boots have finally given up the ghost. The sides have split, water seeps in, and though you’re still as comfortable as the day I first slipped you on, I think we both know our time together has come to an end.

You’ve been brilliant, you really have. From long days wandering around showgrounds to trudging through soggy fields both green-laning and walking Lilly, you’ve kept me grounded - literally. You’ve stood up to endless miles of gravel, grass, tarmac, and the occasional bog, never once complaining as I stomped through it all. You’ve been scuffed, scraped, splattered, and soaked, but you just got on with the job.

I’m sorry, though. I never treated you the way I should’ve. You deserved better. A bit of polish now and then, a dab of leather conditioner maybe, but instead, if you were lucky, you got a quick rinse under the tap and a night by the radiator. Not exactly spa treatment, is it? You bore the brunt of my laziness with admirable stoicism.

You’ve been there for everything - from lazy Sunday dog walks to long, cold photo shoots on windswept moors. You’ve trudged through fields to rescue stuck cars, queued in rain-soaked festival car parks, and endured the odd night outside, alone, in all weathers. (sorry about that, by the way).

Even now, with your sides split and your water-resistant-ness gone, you’re still so bloody comfortable. That’s what makes this harder. Every time I think, “Right, that’s it, you’re done,” I slip you on and think, “Maybe just one more day.”

But I know how this goes. “One more day” becomes a week, then a month, and before long, I’m stood in a puddle with soggy socks, muttering to myself that I should’ve let you go sooner.

So, this is my goodbye. You’ve earned your rest. You’ve been loyal, dependable, and tougher than I ever gave you credit for. I could keep you for dry-weather walks, but that feels a bit cruel - like asking an old workhorse to plough one last field.

Thank you, Blundstones. You’ve been brilliant. May you rest among the pile of well-worn boots that earned their keep.

Here’s to you - and to the many muddy miles we conquered together.

Website - Blunstone #1477