WORLD OF RUBBER

I think it's time we thought more deeply about Wellington boots - but not of their originally dry-foot function so much as their new role as, apparently, fashion accessory.

These days, by which I mean in the past couple of weeks as the snow (at least in the south of England) receded, every splash of rain or hint of drizzle prompts an immediate efflorescence of rubber boots on the streets, in the tubes, on the buses and in the bars.

This is not about fashion as is made clear by the fact that female wearers of such items give the clear impression they have never done so before (and equally they've never worn North Face anoraks or H&M feather filled jackets before). Instead this is the, "I've had to buy these items so I'm damned well going to wear them whenever I can" syndrome brought about by the fact the weather was so filthy around Christmas that trippy heels, low slung courts and indeed the universal trainer just would not do.

You know, it's rare in the home counties to suffer weather that is so intense that one can't get away, in terms of dress, with just being a bit cold or a bit damp (or both). But it's interesting that, for southern softies, there have been no moves to emulate the dress 'sense' of some of those used to intense cold for some part of the year, every year.

No coatless short-sleeved Zurichers to be found on the snowy streets of Oxford; no T-short wearing denizens of Calgary hopping nimbly from frozen puddle to frozen puddle across St James's Park.

But at least this means we won't be subject to what the Russians call 'snow drops' - people who (usually post the consumption of volumes of potato vodka) fall in Russian streets during the long winter night, are covered by snow and are only revealed in their putrid glory, weeks or months later when the thaw sets in.

Which is all a long way from the humble wellie.