As I mentioned in the previous post, we were moving furniture madly before departing for our two weeks in Canada - more of which later. Moving our bed was a revelation. Firstly it revealed how long it has been since the hoover reached more than six inches underneath it and secondly it revealed that the Shah's hoarding habit has not abated one bit, despite my incessant nagging.
A truly skanky, dusty old pair of boots emerged, sans laces, which had clearly not been worn for aeons.
I made a grab for them but the Shah was quicker. He snatched them from my grasp and clutched them theatrically to his chest. "You're not throwing these away!" he cried with great drama. "Don't be ridiculous," I snapped, "they're wrecked - let me have them and I'll put them in the bin right now."
"Nooooooooo," howled the Shah. "Not these! These are my Laughing Boots!"
"FFS!" I bit back. "What the hell are Laughing Boots?"
And then he showed me...