It's possible that I may have had some about fifty years ago but I really can't be sure. Certainly, as an adult, I've never been able to countenance the idea. Maybe it's the memory of various uncles slumped in armchairs watching Saturday afternoon wrestling but, whatever the reason, the associations are almost always rather gloomy.
Still, needs must where the devil drives (whatever that means) and so it was that I found myself stepping out purposefully into the pale December evening with only one thing on my mind - to buy myself a pair of slippers.
Slippers! Who'd ever have thought it? Part of me was thinking, "It's all over, mate - one snugly foot in the grave from here on in," etc. while the other part was well aware that padding around on freezing tile floors in bare feet had caused me to come within a whisker of falling quite ill a just few days before. The pragmatic solution, then, was the only realistic one on the table.
To be fair, there were some fantastic comedy Homer Simpson beer ones on sale in the shop I'd hastily chosen for this reckless foray into old age (top tip: never go to more than one shop when buying anything. What you might save in price by walking around for hours and hours is entirely mitigated by all that time you'll never get back in order to be able to indulge in far more interesting and productive pursuits). Anyway, the Homer option was very tempting but, in the end, I decided to go the whole hog and seek out the most horrible-looking pair I could find which, cunningly, would allow me to take refuge behind a defensive mask of knowing irony if anyone ever saw me in them.
After scanning the shelves for a good fifteen seconds or so, my ever more desperate gaze eventually fell upon just what I was looking for - a pair in a brown and beige chequered pattern. I took them to the counter forthwith, refusing to try them on for many and various reasons and hurried home excitedly for a test drive.
When I say 'test drive', I don't mean for comfort - come on, they're slippers - but rather for their most important function: sliding across the floor tiles, like an annoying child at wedding. Or Bruce Springsteen. Sure enough, my new acquisition was well up to the task - job done.
It's early days, but I'm growing rather fond of my yucky beige and brown slippers and starting to wonder why I'd avoided taking the plunge for so long.
By the way, anyone know what time the wrestling starts?