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Hi, it's me. Today I want to share a story with you about a shoe. But not just any shoe. A lost shoe.

I was clearing out my wardrobe yesterday, bit of a spring clean, start of a new term and all that, and I found my favourite Jimmy Choo shoe ever. I mean shoe, rather than shoes, because I only have one, the left one. You know how a smell can take you straight back to an old memory – like Dettol always makes you think of primary school and vomit - well, seeing this shoe brought the last night I wore them right back to me.

It was Friday 12th November 2006 we'd all gone to a night at the Proxy club. I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, and my white top (which Tony always said looked good under the ultra violet light) and I looked pretty hot.

You know when you go out and you've got this feeling that it's going to be a good night – I was with my mates, loved my outfit, Tony was on form, it was great. Until …

I spilt a full glass of vodka and cranberry down my white, slipped over in the toilets onto a dubious wet patch by an out-of-order cubicle, and then came out to see Tony grabbing the arse of a perfect looking (I mean could-be-a-model perfect) blond. I headed straight for the bar and got myself another double vodka.

……Six double vodkas later I was properly out of it and had fallen asleep on one of the vile, purple velvet sofas near the bar area.

I woke up to find myself in Tony's arms, being carried out of the club. I know it sounds silly, and I know it was his fault really, but I remember feeling so safe and happy in his arms. It was only when we got back to mine that I realised I was one shoe down. I know I should have thrown the left one away ages ago but it's so beautiful, it's what Jal and I like to call "Shoe-tiful".

I'm never going to see the right one again but I can't bear to say goodbye to my stunning Jimmy Choo.