I love my wellies. I bought them online probably five years ago, when I was catching the bus (well, two buses actually) to work, living here, and having to stand at an ungodly hour at a bus stop looking out across the snow-covered moors.
They're another Investment Buy. As in, you get what you pay for. And I have.
These boots have covered more miles than I can possibly recall. They're beyond comfortable (with or without extra socks) and have got me through many a puddle or worse. I'd be lost without them - in fact, I've been lost in them a few times but you know what I mean.
When I was a pony-mad youngster and spent most of my out-of-school hours at the farm mucking out and galloping around on my plump little steed, I had a pair of the ubiquitous green Hunters. I quite literally wore them to death. I can still remember the day when I pulled one on and it tore completely round the ankle. The other did the same. I was left with a pair of welly shoes. They'd worn so thin over the years that I finally killed them off.
A good pair of wellies are so important, whether you're gardening, running out to empty the recycling or heading out on a hike.
Mine show no signs of tiring yet. But when they do, I fancy a pair like these:
Time to start feeding the piggy bank.