I adored high heels. I was lucky enough to be given money from my Granny was I was 21, with instructions to spend it on something that made me happy. I blew the lot on a beautiful pair of strappy, snakeskin, killer heeled sandals from a shop in New Bond Street; Elliotts perhaps? I loved them and wore them until they fell apart, many years and numerous repairs later. Even now, over forty years later, I can remember the pleasure they gave me. Now, after two operations to remove bunions, I can't wear killer heels at all. For my son's wedding I wore kitten heels, but changed into sparkly Converse flats, which I'd prettied up with pink satin ribbon instead of laces, for the dancing later. Now I wear flats, but what flats! Beautiful brogues from Rogue Matilda, embroidered boots from Dr Marten's, bargains from Shoeaholics.com. Comfortable and stylish, with memories of those blue heels to comfort me in my "heel-less" days. My mother, by the way, was furious with me for my profligacy!