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no shoes. The receptionist, however, was one of Cornwall's finest sights and made the ex-
cursion entirely worthwhile.
On the steep downward descent into St Ives, I spotted a squash club set back from the
road. I managed to swerve into the drive, but it was too late to warn Ben who shot past on
the BMX completely out of control. The scraping of his boots on the road echoed up the
quaint street as he tried to slow the bike down. In a moment of lunacy, he reached out and
grabbed onto a lamp post as he passed, and was swung around in a circle, bumping up and
over the curb, and finishing on the pavement facing back up the hill towards me. It was a
move that any gymnast would have been proud of. He then wheeled his bike up the hill to
where I stood in astonishment.
Wehadbeentakingitinturnstoweartheriggerboots,buttheywerebeginningtocause
problemsforbothofus.Wewerenow'athletes',andclaycoveredriggerbootsarenotcon-
sidered suitable athletic footwear. I had pulled over at the squash club thinking that they
might have a lost property that we could scavenge through.
The squash club seemed to be a part of the bar next door, because the barman sprinted
round as soon as he saw us.
'Can I help you, guys?' he said as he bounced towards us. I mean bounced as in a sort
of jolly run, rather than actual bouncing. That would be weird.
'Hello,'Isaid,'Wewerejustwonderingwhetheryouhadanoldpairoftrainersthathad
been left behind?'
'Did you lose a pair here?' he asked
'Not exactly,' said Ben, and then he explained the whole situation, after which Dave -
the extremely excitable barman - began bouncing up and down on the spot. This time, I
mean bouncing in the literal sense.
'I love it, I love it,' he said, clapping his hands together like a small child. 'I don't think
we've got any trainers at the moment, but you can come and have a look.'
We followed him through the corridors to a small broom cupboard under the stairs. He
opened the Alice-in-Wonderland sized door, and removed a box containing a few random
bits and pieces. There was one pink sock, a pair of tights, a baseball cap, a sweaty sweat-
band, a necklace and a set of car keys. Ben held up the sweaty sweatband and the tights
and looked at me with a look as if to say 'How about these? Do you think these might be
useful?' I raised an eyebrow at him, which made my feelings known. He got the message
and put them back in the box.
'Sorry, guys. No luck, I'm afraid,' said Dave, sounding almost as disappointed as we
wereasheputtheshoeboxback.'Hangonaminute,whatarethese?'Heretrievedapairof
white Adidas trainers that hadbeen hiding behind the vacuum cleaner.'I'mnotsurewhose
these are or where they have come from, but I would just take them if I were you.'
They were a perfect fit, and, as Ben pointed out, they were almost trendy.
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