The disco shoes are dead

The worst possible news: my disco shoes are damaged beyond repair. They have finally shuffled off their final dancefloor. They are dead.

I bought them about 15 years ago, when spending £125 on a pair of frivolous clubbing shoes seemed the height of good sense. It was a time when Rach and I spent most of our free time clubbing - when we would devote entire weekends to the ritualistic preparation for, attendance at and recovery from parties. It was a very special time in my life that I will always remember with great fondness.

So it's all the more upsetting that one of the few material links back to those fun-filled times has finally given up the ghost. They went out in style though - I wore them to a party last night that was filled with more laughter and lunacy than any 45 year-old retired raver has any right to expect. Towards the end of a very confusing night I noticed that something wasn't quite right and inspected my left shoe, only to find a gaping hole where the heel should have been, with the black sole flapping about like an ill-fitting toupee in a stiff breeze. As I trudged home through the rain-sodden streets of Hove in the early hours of this morning I reflected on how much fun I've had in these shoes and how I'm never going to buy anything like them again.

When those shoes died, a little part of me went with them. This is a sad day.

Size four and a half on the Lawns

I saw this discarded shoe (size four and a half) impaled on a post at the western end of The Lawns yesterday and it sparked off a rather brilliant thought process, even if I say so myself. I'm beginning to think there may be some mileage in the idea of tracking down enough discarded women's clothing to make up a whole outfit. I could then open a little boutique called something like Wardrobe Trouvée and sell them on for vast sums of money. If there's a flaw in my plan - and that's a big 'if' there because I think this is a winner - it's the time it might take to find enough stock. It has, after all, been several weeks since I found the other item, this bra. But I might be able to turn this into a selling point. I might be able to convince the sort of vapid halfwit who might shop in such a boutique that their scarcity makes my items that much more valuable. This could be my big moment! Does anyone have Paris Hilton's mobile number?