They say, if you want to understand someone, you first need to walk a mile in their shoes.
For the second time in a week, my shoes were soaked-through by rain yesterday. So, today, I have put on a spare pair, that were handed-down to me by my father. They had been bought for him as a gift, as I recall, but he didn't get on with them.
They are slightly too big for me (perhaps for him, too; perhaps that is why he passed them on?) and so I am always and slightly awkwardly aware of them. And while I don’t expect to understand my dad any better, for walking into town in them later this morning, I shall be prompted to think of him.
And of my late father-in-law, whose beautiful rug, passed on to us many years ago, is underneath my feet.