Growing up with black wellingtons
by Welly boy  (wellyboy20@hotmail.com)

I still remember the details of how Derek was dressed that January morning even 
though it is now nearly forty years ago. He was the same age as me, thirteen, 
and I had knocked at his door that morning so we could walk to school together 
as we did every day. The previous night it had snowed. A covering of about 6 
inches lay on the ground which for our town, South Shields in north-east 
England, was a lot.  "I'm nearly ready, just need my coat" he'd said after 
opening the door. He stood there wearing his school uniform. White shirt, blue 
and red tie, navy blue blazer with the three buttons fastened as usual, dark 
grey trousers and a pair of black wellingtons on his feet. It was the 
wellingtons that I remember most vividly. Not only were they sparklingly clean 
but their tops had been turned over by about two inches. 

Derek was the boy that I emulated. I wanted to be just like him but usually 
failed miserably. He was in the school football team while I stood on the 
sidelines and just watched. He was allowed to play out after dark while I had to 
return home. He had all the newest toys which I could not afford. On that 
fateful morning my mother had told me to wear my wellingtons for school but I 
refused saying that wellies were only for little kids but now Derek was wearing 
his and he looked real class with the tops turned over. Why hadn't I thought of 
that ?

He came back to the door with his coat on and I checked that his boots hadn't 
changed. We set off walking down the street but I soon slipped on the snow and 
fell down twice within twenty yards. My feet became cold and wet whereas Derek 
had warm dry feet and was enjoying himself in the snow. On our way to school we 
met some other boys two of whom were wearing black wellies but not had their 
tops turned over like Derek. Someone threw a snowball which of course hit me on 
the side of the head and everyone laughed. The snowballs I through never hit 
anything except a wall or the ground.

Most of the lads who were wearing wellies, including Derek, kept them on in 
class. In the first lesson Derek sat just in front of me and I never took my 
eyes of those boots. Four other lads in the class also wore wellies but nobody's 
looked like Derek's. I was imagining what my wellington boots would look like 
with the tops turned down. I even started drawing a sketch of one on the back of 
my book which was not very clever when the teacher approached from behind, 
picked up my book, mumbled "very artistic" in a sarcastic tone and told me that 
if I was that interested in wellington boots I could write a two page essay on 
the subject that evening.

At lunch time I avoided the usual football game, for about the first time ever, 
and wandered slowly around the playground. I was looking at what the other lads 
were wearing on their feet. Quite a number had wellingtons on and four had the 
tops turned over. These were older boys about fifteen or sixteen years old. I 
couldn't take my eyes off them. They had an aura about them that made me so 
excited that my whole body tingled. In fact I got so carried away that one of 
them realised I was watching him and yelled at me wanting to know what I was 
looking at. I nearly blurted out that I was looking at his turned over 
wellington boots but stopped myself and just said 'nothing'.

Afternoon school dragged as I wanted to get home as soon as possible to find my 
black wellingtons. When the bell rang and we left the building I made sure that 
I found Derek to walk home with. We were a group of six. Two others, as well as 
Derek, wore wellingtons but not turned over. We played with the snow as we 
walked slowly home. As boys do, there was a good deal of pushing and shoving and 
not surprisingly I was the first to fall down. It was not long before we all 
ended up in one big pile with Derek on top of me with his feet just in front of 
my face. I could smell his wellies. I reached out with both my hands and took 
hold of one welly. Someone pulled him in the opposite direction but I hung on 
tight to his boot. I crawled forward clinging to my treasure as tight as I could 
and eventually I was rewarded as his foot slipped out in the opposite direction. 
I stood up shaking with excitement at the trophy I was holding in my hand. A 
rich warm smell came out of the boot and I put the open end over my nose.  I 
thought I was going to faint with the smell and excitement but Derek made a grab 
for his welly. I quickly stepped forward as he hopped around on his one booted 
foot. I threw my prize to another boy who also had a smell, followed by a loud 
cough, and passed it around the group. Eventually it was passed back to Derek 
who turned on me and pointed out that he wouldn't forget that I had taken his 
boot off first and that he was going to get even .

When I arrived home I was pleased that my parents were both still at work and my 
sister had not returned from her school either. I found my wellingtons in the 
cupboard under the stair. I'd only got them in the summer when we'd had a 
holiday on a farm and I'd worn them around the farmyard and fields and had great 
fun but now I wanted to make an important change to them. I took them upstairs 
to my room, sat down on the bed and started to turn the tops over. I 
experimented turning them over in different lengths until I thought they looked 
the same as Derek's then I changed out of my school uniform into jeans and 
jumper, pulled on my wellies and went outside to play with Derek and some other 
lads in the street.