In Aruba I bought a pair of sandals, with leather straps and shiny steel buckles; I wore them with white ankle socks. Coming home from the sea in June no one in my town had sandals like mine. Mind, not much call for sandals in Liverpool, winter rain, soggy streets, hailstones and so on. When I went back to sea, I left the sandals under my bed to wear when returning, but when I came back brother had worn them to death, broken straps and rusty buckles. I was very sad, but then I met a girl called Sandra and since it was October, too cold for sandals and white ankle socks, I got over the loss.