Spring has finally arrived in London and we have had glorious sunshine, hayfever inducing pollen levels and, in my case, the sound of a lady's sandal straps breaking with a 'crack' as I carelessly trod on her from behind.
"I'm so sorry. We can find a shoe repair shop around here and I'll pay for it to be repaired,"
I offered, as the lady peered at the pink straps that were hanging loosely from the sole of the sandal. But she shook her sunglasses and said,
"I have to go to work now so I can't do that."
There are people who go to work at 11am in sunglasses, pink sandals and flowing skirts, and their workplace is in trendy Upper Street in Islington. Had I known this before, I would never have volunteered to work in the City wearing dark suits.
"There's nothing you can do, you know?"
She said. I stared at my trainers glumly and nodded. After that I spent the next 100 yards walking up Upper Street staring at other women's feet so that I wouldn't do such a klutzy thing again. Everyone else seemed to be wearing sandals and sunglasses - I was too sensibly dressed to fit in here.

I suddenly realised why I had worked in the City...