The Order Of The Boot

I was brought to a memory of this by my post a little while ago – about the business of Facebook shares that stick to you like shit to a blanket – and how you stop them from doing so.

The answer turns out to be banning the poster – not the original one, which you cannot seem to do, but the Fb friend who plastered the thing on you. With a ban goes an unfriend and all the emotional consequences that might entail.

Well, I will see how badly I feel in the morning – I’ve just pulled to plug on someone. They are not a bad person – rather a good one, probably. So, possibly, am I. We’ll just have to exist separately from now on. At least losing facebook contact does not take any skin off or reduce bank accounts.

The other order of the boot I remember was a request I got from my wife’s uncle, Doug Peterkin, back in the 1980’s. He knew I was a dentist and a model builder and asked me to make him a winged boot token using my modelling skills. He wanted something in brass or pot metal to mount on a plaque – featuring a flying boot with a wing at the back.

Doug was an escaper – and a successful one – while he served with the RAF in WW 2. He was a pilot of a Mosquito night fighter on a Serrate sweep when someone ( British or German ) shot him down. He was hidden and returned by the French Resistance over a period of months and I suspect had a murderous time of it while on the run. When eventually returned via Portugal to Great Britain, the RAF kept him to instructor duties in the UK and never let him fly over continental Europe again – he knew too much to be captured a second time, I suspect.

There was a society of old escapers and he wanted to have a memento to show. I was honoured to make up the wax master model of the winged boot and then asked one of the technicians to cast it for me.

The chap did a superb job of it, but not in brass or pot metal – he did it in pure silver and then further refused to take any payment for the job. A thorough gentleman.

Doug was delighted and I could not get him to accept it without payment, which I drank. I am not a thorough gentleman.

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