OK that’s it for Rushden so to the car – unless you want to wear those soles
down. About 15 miles up the road we have a small town (Great Leather handbag factory outlet here too, but I digress). In 1886 Cheaneys started doing business from a factory, in 1896 they moved to the site they still inhabit nowadays. Just as they remain on the same site Cheaneys also still deal with all aspects of their shoe production. No outsourcing for them; from clicking (the cutting out of the leather) up to the polishing of the finished product, all work is done in Desborough. In 1903 Father and son were joined by another son Harold, and the name of the company changed to J. Cheaney and sons.
Cheaney’s now have a shop in London (opened 2002) and the name is synonymous with good style – after all Prada owned Church and Company, who in turn owned Cheaneys (are you keeping up?) In any case in 2009 Church cousins bought out the company and are now the owners of this thriving business.
Revered today they may be, yet between the 2nd World War and the 1960s Cheaney’s produced no shoes in their own name. They manufactured for other companies and for export. In 1966 the company was bought by Church and Company and the following year shoes were produced under the moniker ‘Cheaney of England’. You just have to log on to the high end online retailers to see how respected Cheaney’s are (I’m thinking MrPorter.com) Time has moved on the integrity of the pieces has not.
Hop in then, we’re off to Kettering.
So much of the week is spent in a haze of wishing for the weekend, and here it is. Clock ticking on my wall (thats a lie, windowsill) marking the seconds of this day that I have clung to since the dawning of Monday. Soooo, I got up early to make the most of it, lagging now. Ran in the rain, sweat and rain drops merging to a sweet combination of cool heat, went to the shop for fresh bakery items; warm and throbbing through their paper wrappers – avoided eating them. Bought sunflowers, beautifully imperfect shiny-ness. Now I must consider what to make of the next 14 hours. tick tock tick tock.
So I’m nothing special, I truly believe this to be fact. What is it then that differentiates the way I feel about myself from somebody else who revels in themselves and, regardless of whatever anyone else may think of them, sees themselves as a fab specimen of humanity. I used to think it could be upbringing, but having siblings with a differing attitude from mine negates this (unless we go into the whole position within the family rigmarole, eldest child me in case you’re wondering). So is it a learned process?, and who the hell decided to teach me this little joy.
I don’t idly ask this question, I really want to know how to change, not to become an unbearable smug type, but you know to generally accept me for who I am. I can’t beat myself up forever, it’s not fun, it hurts those I love too. I get that if you have a talent or a passion you may find it easier to value yourself, but what of those of us that feel we are just normal (I wish!), how do we find some self belief from the little day-to-day things we do that are easily dismissible as ‘everybody can do them’. Ohhh I wish I knew.
Universal Secret No. 8
Just been rudely awoken by an aeroplane. It’s not as though it stole the duvet you understand, more it’s rumbling – I swear it paused above the house until it’s mission was complete.
So another feature point of the year, an anchor to mark our time and passing through this old thing called life. I have a few regrets, but none greater than the failure I was when my Father perhaps needed me most. I was useless and fearful and am still not sure I can ever be anything else in certain situations. My only hope is that I continue to live out my days in a manner that should the worst happen our dad’s or anyone we love will go knowing they were cherished.
Today, oh today, must find 3 positive things to say about today.
1. Its not Monday.
2. errmm I need to think,
The thing is not every day brings a happy moment or even a nod in that direction. It is not my lack of effort to make the best of the day that brings me down;hurdle, jump, hurdle, jump, hurdle, wait why am I the one jumping when others are nipping around the edge. Silly old me.
Toeing the line, being the rule follower and the nice one sometimes feels like a weakness. Surely this is wrong, when did the world change to this extent, or was it a fallacy that heady days where treating others as they would treat you ever even existed. Why are those doing the best for other people, being considerate and thoughtful left behind. Be nice and you run the risk of being taken advantage of, saying no isn’t something you’d do so lets ask you. Extra work, you don’t mind do you?
Well here’s the thing, yes I am nice, but yes I actually do mind. I mind each time you abuse my niceness, act after act erodes a little bit of my kind nature, each task that is placed onto my pretty broad shoulders with no thought for me weighs me down that little bit more. I like me, I like being nice, I wish other people would realise that they are changing me little by little and yes I do have a problem with this.
2. In eight hours today will be over.
3. Tomorrow could be different.
Its wet and rainy who’d have thought it on a Bank Holiday Monday. This has meant Ive brewed up a pot o’ tea and am hibernating in 10.5 togs with Saturday’s supplements (retro floral fabrics anyone). But this retreat has led me to wonder, I wonder what it is that differentiates one person from another. What allows one person to see the potential in a day regardless of its outfit, whilst another one feels its a nothing kind of day (guess which one I am?).
Perhaps my question is less what and more how. How does one change teams, can somebody please forward me the update to googlemaps with the secret hidden route from bed to life. Thank you, more tea?