Shoes die. They crack or the soles tear off, they develope holes and stones pierce the skin. Anyhoo, I was down to my last pair of shoes.
God knows how, evolution, survival of the fittest, I don't know, but my smart work shoes had survived longer than my boots or my trainers. I'm not surprised about my trainers dying, they were Converse knock-offs, £7.99 from somewhere in Braehead in the frantic dash before heading to Spain in '06.
Anyhoo, for the past few months, whenever I've headed off to buy new shoes, I wander into Brent Cross or The Trafford Centre, or where ever else people do shopping, I took a deep breath stepped in, then stepped straight out again, almost in tears of frustration.
But this time it was different, I took a girl with me to supervise.
And so I acquired these rather nifty Converse
There was a sale on, but there were no Converse in my size, so I just asked the guy to bring out everything in size 11, and after looking in the three boxes that appeared, these ones were the coolest. I think they're going to do as my dancing shoes and driving shoes.
Also acquired were these rather generic boots
I admit they were the first ones I picked up in the shop, but they fitted okay and there's not much between one pair of generic boots and the next pair.
At least now I have a full complement of footwhere, I can now spend more time under less pressure to find any more I could need.