I’m writing this post sat on the lounge at home. I’ve worn a suit all day, but now I’m wearing a trusty pair of walking trousers.
They are a favourite.
I couldn’t tell you how long I’ve had them; long enough for the labels inside to have to writing left on them. When I bought them they were an olive colour. I’m not sure what colour you’d call them today other than the obvious ‘faded olive’.
These trousers have travelled some miles. If I’m flying somewhere and had a choice of what to sit in for the next 8 hours I’d choose these trousers.
They’re walking trousers and they’ve done some walking. I have in my mind that when I bought them they were advertised as quick drying and that’s still true today. It’s one of the reasons why I love them. I tend not to go walking if it’s going to rain all day, but you can’t go walking in the UK without expecting a shower.
But as well as walking these trousers have also journeyed with me as I’ve visited the beach, camped out, mowed the lawn, hung a picture, watched the television, read a book, driven the car and sat by a lake. They’ve been with me on all sorts of adventures.
These trousers are part of my history and carry that history in their fibres. There’s a couple of places where they are a bit worn out and a few places where there are little rips. Some places have faded more than others, some places appear as vivid as they were when I bought them. A bit like my history.
Weaved through all of these fibres of history is another thread. A different thread. A thread that manages to touch all of the other fibres adding vibrancy. This thread doesn’t fade and doesn’t wear out.