Segs and steel tips .

When I was around eleven and started a paper round [for Amies on the Manor Top] my old dad Jim who adopted me when no one else could be bothered decided that I needed some proper boots .

And so it was down to the Army and Navy shop on the corner of St Pauls Parade in Town.

Piled up in the corner of that shop was a pile of worn boots.

Now those boots had been discarded by the Army as no longer fit for purpose due to missing segs and steel tips they were also very heavy and the leather was as stiff as an alligators arse.

The Smallest size was a 7 and even though I was only a size 5 at that time it was decided that they would fit as long as I wore two pair army socks.

So half a crowns worth of boots along with two pair of socks were loaded onto the 102 bus to Gleadless.

When we got home the hobbing foot was got from behind the door where it was used as a door stop when not hobbing boots and shoes and this along with a old tin box full of segs,steel tips and old bike tyre strips was set up on the back yard.

All missing segs and steel tips were hammered into place followed by a soaking in melted dubbin ,then it was time for the launching down the hill that was Gleadless Crescent [ A Crescent later stolen by the Council and given over to posh people:mad:].

Any way the boots were magic and got all the Crescent kids jealous to deeearth as I clicked, skidded and slithered with sparks flying of them boots that had probably been to Dunkirk or Normandy before being commandeered by me and Jim from the shop on St Pauls Parade.

The next weeks paper round [four miles twice a day for ten bob a week] where purgatory as those boots slobbed giving me blisters as well as cutting into my upper ankles leaving large red wheels ,but old Jim told me that they would wear in time.

I know he was as proud of those boots as me and never let on that I some times hidded them behind Mrs Humphrey hedge and wore my wellows which also gave red rings around the calf area making my legs look like a pair of chapped turkey necks.

But he was right after around a month or so they got broke in and did around forty miles a week summer and winter ,summer with sparks flying and winter with the most artistic pattern ever seen in a Gleadless snow storm.

The pattern consisted fifteen uniformed indents as the segs sunk in as well as two half moons front and back where the steel tips proudly displayed the four screw heads that never budged [old Jim could screw for England].

I had em up to leaving school four years later and even though they were then to small They took me all the way to Bradway on a bike [Hurcules] my first day on a building site.[Another story].

Good owd Jim I loved thi!

Worst thing about seggs was when you lost em, but only off one boot! The resulting "click,thud" when walking was enough to drive you mad. Reckon I'm a bit younger than you Cuttsie as our army store boots were GERMAN!!! They were para boots but for 15 quid they made good motorbike/work boots for the financially challenged.(skint!).

Worst thing about seggs was when you lost em, but only off one boot! The resulting "click,thud" when walking was enough to drive you mad. Reckon I'm a bit younger than you Cuttsie as our army store boots were GERMAN!!! They were para boots but for 15 quid they made good motorbike/work boots for the financially challenged.(skint!).

German! Jackboots !!!! you wunt wear them ont Manor Top old Tom from't snooker oil would have nuttered you:hihi:

I have no idea how I managed to get through my teenage years getting down hill to school in a pair of German army surplus boots with segs all over them, carrying assorted bulky musical instruments including either a cello or a tuba, without breaking my neck.

The risk of falling over was only made worse by exacerbating the lack of grip when I grew out of those boots and instead bought a pair of slick soled cowboy boots.

Lol, bet old Adolph would be well miffed that his boots ended up on the feet of skint Sheff lads. Mind you, labourer would've been glad of a pair of them nazi boots when he dropped 3 concrete blocks on his toe ends last week. Them Nikes might look the dogs when you're poncing about round the Valley but they're deffo crap on site! Not much cop for invading Poland either I reckon!

When I worked on the plates at English Steel we wore clogs because you weren't able to work in ordinary boots as the heat went straight through them and set them afire and long before that you would have been jumping around in agony.

We were not long married then and we were in lodgings on the old Manor and as we worked shifts then I took great delight in slaring my feet on the pavements in the dark and watching the sparks every morning when I was returning home from nights.

I must have acted as an alarm clock judging by the upstairs lights that came on, l ooking back I sometimes wondered how many got up to swear at me, but as the old adage went."if I'm up then every buggar is"

The pattern consisted fifteen uniformed indents as the segs sunk in as well as two half moons front and back where the steel tips proudly displayed the four screw heads that never budged [old Jim could screw for England].!

I wasn't so lucky. The heel plate on my right boot came loose and as I was running, got bent backwards and stuck out like a scythe.

I got a nice cut that looked like the slice you put in the top of a loaf before you bake it. Perfect oval cut. Never got it stitched, and it's still there.

Segs always make me think of my father, for two reasons, the first being that my father has a very distinctive walk, where he catches his heel halfway through his step, so you hear the tap of the segs before his foot fully strikes the floor. The second is that in my younger days, I wore my shoes down very quickly. My dad would cobble our shoes, himself, with Phillips' stick-a-soles and segs. So my shoes were as noisy as his, at times.

My Dad showed me how to stop boots and wellies leaving red weals on ankles and calfs, all you did was to get a razor blade and put a series of slits around the tops, the slits were roughly a quarter of an inch long, it worked a treat.

My Dad showed me how to stop boots and wellies leaving red weals on ankles and calfs, all you did was to get a razor blade and put a series of slits around the tops, the slits were roughly a quarter of an inch long, it worked a treat.

Reminds me of when we made paper hyacinths at Prince Edwards University .

My Dad showed me how to stop boots and wellies leaving red weals on ankles and calfs, all you did was to get a razor blade and put a series of slits around the tops, the slits were roughly a quarter of an inch long, it worked a treat.

To fix that we used to turn them down at the top.

Exactly one and a half inches was considered cool. (If there ever was anything "cool" about wearing wellies)

Reminds me of when we made paper hyacinths at Prince Edwards University .

Is that where you got your PHd from(Pretty handy dude)?