The quest for the Holy Grail, the search for the meaning of life and even getting Dylan to eat what we give him are all nothing compared to the apparently impossible pursuit I have been stuck on for almost a year. The mission in question is that of finding the perfect pair of slippers. I say ‘perfect’, but something that vaguely resembles a compromise would be fine. Allow me to explain…
You wouldn’t have thought that this seemingly simple task could cause so much rage, but believe me it has. It all started last year when my lovely warm novelty football slippers quite literally turned up their toes.
They were shedding foam everywhere and, with Dylan trying to eat the detritus of my once awesome footwear, they had to go. “No bother,” I thought, “I’ll buy a similar pair.” Silly, naive Tom! You see, my slippers’ sad demise seemed to coincide with the world’s retail gurus deciding that the kind of home-exclusive footwear I favour had had its day.
That’s not to say I’m asking too much, however. My main criterion is that they have soft soles. I don’t like the way hard-soled slippers feel. For me, slippers should make you feel at home. If they could talk – which, admittedly, would be a bit scary – they should say something like “Welcome home, friend, your working day is over. You have no need to venture outside again today.”
Yet everything I found in the shops would have said something more like “Well you may be at home, but I’ve got plans for you that involve walking down to the bins.” It’s as if they aspire to be shoes and it’s driving me round the bend.
I’m also reluctant to get mules. I don’t want to have slippers that slap around like flip flops; their purpose is to keep your feet cosy, not to abandon you for half of every step, losing vital warmth with each one. I’ve already shared my gripes about the distinct lack of proper slippers with the wonderful world of Twitter and have received plenty of sympathy and suggestions of help from some kind, supportive people.
Sadly, however, I am still looking for the right answer. Some suggested Crocs; not my bag I’m afraid – they’re much more like gardening shoes in my humblest of opinions.
Others have proffered shops to try; again, these have proved fruitless. Well, soft-soled, non-mule slipperless anyway. It seems that my only remaining ally is the internet. Or is it? I have found the same array of footwear there, plus moccasins and the odd pair of novelty Yeti feet. Fail.
I guess it’ll have to be moccasins then. I suppose they’re a very ‘dad’ kind of slipper. You have to wonder, meanwhile, whether there’s some really odd conspiracy going on here and that leads me to my final and, indeed, most far-fetched notion of this rant.
I’ve been playing the brilliant Batman Arkham Asylum game recently. One of the nice, geeky touches is that you can unlock character biographies by achieving various things. What has struck me about some of the villains is that they have been driven insane by some pretty benign things. If I don’t find some soft-soled slippers soon, I could end up being the Dark Knight’s new nemesis. Think about it, Moccasin Man could be quite a fiend.