At Misfit Shoes we have long had a high opinion of computers When we got our first one, little ‘Arry the Amstrad, he just helped us get our sums right and enabled us to invite our wholesale customers to a fair by writing dozens of what they thought were personal letters. Then we realised we could use his rather basic database to keep a record of every pair in our stock. It was crude and primitive and entailed inputting each pair individually every day, but for the first time we had an accurate stock list.

A lady I know spends her whole life in bed. Since birth she has been unable to move her limbs, feed herself, talk, or do any of the things we all take for granted. In spite of being in what most of us would regard as a pitiable condition she somehow manages to communicate, has a ready smile and radiates cheerfulness to all who come into contact with her.

As far as footwear is concerned we have never had it so good.  Never in the whole history of humankind have shoes been so cheap, of such high quality, nor has there been such a variety of styles on the market.

A salesman has just exited our premises in high dudgeon. I think it is the first time a salesperson has walked out on me - usually it is the other way round - they won't take no for an answer and I have to find kind ways of convincing them that they are not going to get an order and should try elsewhere.

In my capacity as agony uncle to the trade I have been asked for advice. It seems that a well-known chain of department stores, no names no repercussions - has suggested to their suppliers that they might like to contribute to the refurbishment of the stores and the strengthening of the chain's brand by giving an extra discount.

Fortunate are the executives of a company which controls a major brand. All they have to do is count the profits as they roll in. If those profits are huge then they pay themselves huge bonuses. If the profits start to fall off a predator will buy the company, when they will sell their stock and retire to the Cotswolds or the Bahamas according to taste.

The other day I sold a pair of Crocs. Nothing odd about that - they are deservedly very popular - but as I put the money in the till I fell to musing about the things our customers put on their feet, and the way they change over the years.

Mrs. Misfit interrupts my breakfast by informing me that the second biggest retailer of shoes in this country is New Look. Questioned as to the source of this interesting statistic it turned out to be an article in the Daily Telegraph entitled Britain's Richest Asians.

This week I have been on the receiving end of three bits of bureaucracy, two of which bordered on the bizarre.

We had a celebrity in the shop last week, or at least I was told we did, since I had never heard of him. I was standing by the door when he came in so I served him myself. I felt the buzz of excitement behind my back but was too busy serving the object of it to understand what was going on.

I want a pair of shoes made here in England" declared a rather no-nonsense gentleman who walked into our emporium a few days ago.

The young person who had foolishly offered to help him was somewhat taken aback by this, and referred him, as per standing orders when unable to cope, to me who was similarly placed on the back foot.

Last week a new young person joined us. Not yet 20 she had already had two jobs in retail, which I suppose should have told me something. She is polite, pleasant and, as far as I can tell, quite bright. She has all the usual GCSEs and is some sort of youth club leader. So, I hear you ask, why are you worried about her; most of us would be only too happy to have such a person?

Christmas could be the worst in 25 years" I stared at the headline in my morning paper. Why do they do this? Why do they do their best to talk down our innocent efforts to sell our wares? Who asked them to duff us up?