Dead; not my corner of the internet – this is just pining for the fjords, but my poor walking boots.
A couple of thousand miles.
Five countries.
Three-and-a-bit years.
Three mountain ranges.
Two continents.
One dead pair of walking boots.
Spending the Royal Wedding bank holiday wandering around the Scottish Highlands including Ben Nevis finally finished them off. The laces snapped at airport security and a gash in the side opened up descending the Ben. The soles have leaked since January.