The boots I have been looking for all my life turned up the other day. They were in a little shop round the corner from my house, which goes to show that what we are seeking is often right under our nose. I had not gone out looking. I had just popped into the shop to browse and there they were, standing casually by the door. Tan, knee high, a slight western feel, perfect in every way. Except for one. Why is it that when you find the thing your heart desires most it beckons to you with the allure of being meant for you then announces that it is not available? ‘We only have that boot in a size three or seven,’ the ice-cold sales assistant declared.
I am officially a four but sometimes a three. Alas, despite much squeezing, I was not a three that day. I asked whether she could order it but she said no. I pleaded. I begged, I lost all dignity. I cried, I threw myself around the shop like I was fainting. I explained to her that these boots were going to make everything right in my life. She was starting to enjoy it. She was saying no and smiling. I left the shop, but I still had hope. I still had the internet.
I went home and looked up the website for the brand name inside the boot, Kennel & Schmenger. The front page was all black except for a picture of a woman holding a shoe, over which various square shapes were sliding. The only way of getting any further than the front page was by expert manipulation of the computer mouse to balance the avatar precisely over the shoe in the second when the square shapes revealed it and clicking before it disappeared again.