It’s funny the things that keep you awake at night. Mostly it’s fear. Or the cat. Or fear of the cat. But often it can be the most banal of thoughts, such as ‘What is it that fish actually smell of?’ and ‘What do you call those hard bits on the ends of shoelaces?’
Yep, some people’s minds really do work that way.
Also, why does any self-respecting shoemaker sell shoes with laces that are far too long for the shoe, so you have to tie them in double bows, otherwise you stand on them and trip over and fall down a manhole? It seems irresponsible. Sure, you could cut them down to size, but then you’d lose the hard bits on the end – what are they called? – that make it easy to thread your laces through the little eye holes. Not that you would have to worry about that if they were the right length in the first place.
So, after considerable nagging by other people who think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill, you go to buy some new ones, but that’s no easy task. I mean, how do you know the length you need in centimetres without unlacing a whole shoe and measuring it, thereby running the risk of not finding any the right size and being left in the shop trying to relace a shoe with a lace you’ve had to cut down and, therefore, hasn’t got those hard bits on the end that make it easy. There must be a name for them. And who goes to buy shoelaces with a tape measure in their pocket anyway?
Without wishing to give the Health & Safety Executive ideas, why don’t they make all shoes to a standard so all laces are the same length? That would take an awful lot of trouble out of everyday life and help people to sleep at night. You wouldn’t have to worry about whether they were 70cm or 90cm or 114cm. All you’d have to do is match the colour, choose flat or round according to your personal preference, and you’re away, happily striding down the street, past the fish stall, breathing in the whiff of trimethylamine, without your laces flapping round your heels, threatening to get caught in the spokes of some kid’s bicycle and being dragged off up the A22.
It’s only in the middle of the night that you realise how dangerous life really is.
The Knights Templar, those paragons of virtue and strict decorum, were prohibited from wearing shoelaces, ostensibly because they deemed it a pagan custom, but more likely because they recognised the danger of getting them caught in the spikes of their mace and catapulting themselves off their horse as they whirled their weapon above their head.
They’re called aglets, by the way, from the French ‘aguillette’ (small needle). Sleep well tonight.
