Two Weeks Barefoot

I know what you’re thinking. What would be your Native American name? For what it’s worth, I also considered 14 Days Shoeless and Fortnight Sans Shoes, but I had to settle for the Barefoot option. You know it makes sense, right?

Honestly, I am somewhat conflicted. I woke this morning and thought about the reality of my plight. This is my final full day of being incarcerated; I’ve made it through two weeks. Do I want to remember this? I’m not sure that I do. I have spent two weeks of my life in a box, with nothing on my feet. I think that’s what brought it home to me better than anything else. Yes, I did first consider the fact that it is now 15 days since I walked through the front door of mum and dad’s house, taking the first steps on my long journey home, and it won’t be until this time tomorrow that I should be back in the arms of my wife and children. I consider that to be excessive. I did also consider the fact that I have had almost zero contact with any other human beings for the entirety of my stay here – I see nobody, hear nobody; when I open the door to grab my meals (which are left on the table outside), the corridors are deserted; I communicate with my faceless/nameless handler through a mobile phone application. I consider all that to be extremely weird. I then considered the fact that I have had almost no exercise, save for some minutes each day pacing up and down my room – maybe 10 metres each way – when I am used to cycling 8-10 hours each week. I’ve been wondering how this is going to affect my body. I consider it inhumane that no provision is made for exercise of this inmate, and I use that term deliberately, as we all know that even convicted criminals are allowed some time each day to get out into an exercise yard. (Probably).

No, it was the recognition of the fact that I have not had anything on my feet for two weeks that made me realise that this has been truly exceptional period of my life. Save for when I was a babe in arms, when would this ever have been possible before? Never. Thus, here I am, soul searching inspired by my left sole and my right sole. I want to refer to them as my L sole and my R sole, but that sounds wrong. Sorry.

So, I am here, drafting one more chapter. Two weeks without shoes or footwear of any kind. (They did supply some of those hotel-style slipper things, but they are never big enough.) Slipping back into my old shoes tomorrow morning will be just like…, well, slipping into an old pair of shoes, I suppose. I can’t wait. Simple pleasures. Simple things we take for granted, like the necessity of shoes, and yes, other people.

To be fair, I enjoy my own company; I like to be alone, but I don’t want to be lonely. Thank Gawd for LINE, for Facetime, for Whatsapp, for Messenger, eh? Those close to me have been in touch and helped to keep me sane, all through the wonders of magic fairies in these electric boxes in front of and beside me. Imagine being denied that.

As I have already mentioned, I am conflicted. I really don’t want to remember this time, but I think it would also be foolish if I were to forget. (By the way, I would definitely forget, because my memory is so appalling, so I have to write something.) If nothing else, I want to take something positive from the experience. Something positive to justify the total waste of 0.069% of my life so far (15 days/nights of 21,649 days/nights on this planet).

For the record, here are a few positives.

I discovered something enjoyable on Netflix. Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Probably not to everyone’s taste, but it makes me smile and, on occasion, laugh out loud. LOL.

I have been mesmerised by Karl Ove Knausgaard’s A Death in the Family: My Struggle 1, for which I shall be eternally grateful to my dear old Uncle Rob*.

In the past couple of days I have discovered a Youtube gem: The Late Brake Show, and I just wanted to put it out there as an antidote to the overwhelming stench of most of the other Youtube stuff through which I have waded. I planned to pen a bit of a rant on the Youtube culture of today, but this show, fronted by Mr Jonny Smith, ex of Fifth Gear fame, is genuinely exceptional. If you like that kind of thing.

https://www.youtube.com/c/TheLateBrakeShow

Most importantly, I have discovered that life is empty without freedom. I guess that sounds utterly vacuous. It’s hardly the revelation of the century, but if you are an aging, balding, pessimistic, grumpy, insecure, forgetful, caring, analytical, stick-insect of a man, it is necessary to acknowledge that life is too short. I am in my present predicament precisely because I wanted to go home to spend some time with my dear old mum and dad, because I may not get too many more opportunities to do the same. Four weeks with them and two weeks in here. In spite of all I have just written, it was worth it.

Now it’s time to pack my bags. That’ll kill another thirty seconds. See you on the other side, folks.

*You were right, of course!