The right hook

For some time now, there has been a stray boot at the side of the main road south to Cork, three or four yards past the junction for Glanmire. It's not annoying me, neither do I actively enjoy seeing it there, but I do mostly look out for it as I pass. It's a pretty tough boot, in the slip-on, elasticated side gusset style. A Chelsea boot? a dealer boot? Considering the weather and traffic it's endured, it's in good shape, and looks too shiny still not to be of some man-made material. I wonder how it got there. I wonder where its pair is. I wonder if I'll ever stop and risk obliteration to take a picture of the wretched thing. UPDATE I took my pictures and survived. Here's one. Tell me what you think the story is. That boot is the right hook for this fish: it has well and truly skewered my attention. It's nothing to do with anything, but it begs so many questions, and has commandeered so much of my precious thinking time on the journey to work, that I think it would make a very good place for a little advertisement. I'd really like to come up with a similarly osmotic way of getting people to think about Bubble Brothers. Something apparently worthless, just a little out of place, and inescapable.