"You're not thinking of visiting the club in those ... err ... shoes, are you?" muttered a fellow Northern Club member, staring anxiously at my feet.
Our paths had crossed close to the club's entrance, but I assured him that I was on my way to the nearby university.
The
questionable footwear, purchased overseas, represents Nike's latest thinking in cool designs - possibly with a slightly younger purchaser than this old fossil in mind.
When abroad, I spend most of my spare time pitifully seeking size 15 shoes.
The good news was that Nike had two pairs in stock that accommodated my over-size feet.
The bad news was a choice between combinations of vivid blue and orange, or plain bright red.
The young salesman enthusiastically explained that the blue/orange combination was inspired by the décor of the Florida Marine Park and the red pattern by a Hawaiian sunset.
For a man who in wealthier days had his shoes hand-made in coach leather in Jermyn St, London, I appeared to have reached the bottom of the shaft.
"I guess I'll take the red pair," I mumbled, facing an impasse.
"You'll look so way-out there in them," suggested the super-confident salesman, impeccably dressed in a silver glittery T-shirt with the word "Whack" emblazoned across his front in lime green.
Back home, my latest purchase appeared to glow even more brightly when exposed to daylight, suggesting footwear more appropriate for some sort of civil defence emergency.
Donning them, I felt as though I was walking around with a Westpac rescue helicopter on each foot.
"They didn't seem so fluorescent when I tried them on back in the Nike store," I squealed weakly to the caregiver, who refuses to be seen in public with me any more.
She has scathingly suggested the shoes look like identification footwear for those unfortunates who continually wander off from homes for the bewildered.
However, my latest purchase are extremely comfortable, so I'm just going to have to shrug my shoulders and accept footwear with perhaps more street appeal to a teenage Chicago break-dancer.
The worst problem about drawing attention to my over-sized colourful appendages is putting up with the odd inquiry from mischievously minded young women, who like to casually ask: "Is it true what they say about men with big feet?"
Sadly, I'm forced to gloomily admit that this is another aphorism which is pure myth.
Cartoon / Peter Bromhead
Opinion
"You're not thinking of visiting the club in those ... err ... shoes, are you?" muttered a fellow Northern Club member, staring anxiously at my feet.
Our paths had crossed close to the club's entrance, but I assured him that I was on my way to the nearby university.
The
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