I hate shoes. Try as I might, I’ve never been a ‘shoe girl’, something ingrained in me from an early age.

The reason? I’ve always had big feet. Inelegant trotters that, as much as I may want them to, just won’t squash into high street shoes.

Maybe that’s why I was a natural swimmer – I have flippers instead of feet.

A lifetime of wearing footwear made for the opposite sex has roundly knocked any girliness out of me.

We’re constantly told that women’s feet are getting bigger, so in 21st-century terms, at an ample size 8, my feet aren’t even that huge. However, growing up in the 1980s, that was considered whopping.

I quickly learned the disappointment of shoe shopping for the larger-footed lady – the anticipation when the assistant goes into the stockroom, the interminable wait and the inevitable sad, slow shake of the head when he or she emerges empty handed.

Before the age of the internet, when shopping wasn’t a daily activity, high street stores rarely stocked women’s shoes above a size 7.

And, where they did, they only had one or two pairs that had invariably sold out long before I ever got there on a rare shopping trip.

As teenagers, my friends and I became goths of sorts and Doc Martens were de rigueur. They were an unexpected bliss and I’ve stuck with them ever since.

I don’t do dainty. I’ve attempted to dabble over the years, but it’s been hair-pullingly frustrating and a back injury put paid to heels some time ago.

Not to mention the fact that I’m quite tall enough anyway.

Even pumps and flatties that look as if they should be comfortable are anything but when you have to walk any distance – it’s trainers and stompy boots for me all the way.

You might think that things would have improved over the past three decades, but conversely, they seem to have got worse – and that’s largely due to sizing and modern manufacturing.

Like women’s dress sizes – which are a constant (and well-documented) source of exasperation for many of us – women’s footwear sizes are annoyingly inconsistent.

The main problem is that there are several sizing scales in operation and it’s difficult to tell which brand is using which scale until you’ve tried them on.

That can become wallet-bustingly expensive when you’re ordering from the internet, as firms rarely offer both free delivery and free returns.

Firstly, there are the good, old-fashioned British sizes, which generally range from 3 to 8 (with half sizes if you’re lucky).

In days gone by, you pretty much knew where you stood with this scale, but manufacturers rarely use it now – and if they do, they’re not being entirely truthful...

Why? Well, that’s because of the second, predominant sizing scale, the European sizes.

That scale ranges (very roughly) from a 35, 35.5 or 36 to a 41 or a 42 and these Continental sizes don’t correspond easily to the old British sizes.

Some brands class a 41 as an 8, others a 42, with the 41 as a 7.5 – and if it’s a brand that cuts on the small side (as Italian manufacturers tend to do), you’re scuppered.

Sometimes, if you’re extremely lucky, a store might offer a 9, but this usually turns out to be a 42, which elsewhere would be an 8.

Are you confused yet? Well, add to this an entirely different scale for manufacturers in the US, Australia, China and Japan, and I’m sure you’re beginning to see the problem.

Oh, how I envy ladies with delicate feet, who can wander aimlessly into a shoe shop, pick any shoe off the shelf and sit back as the assistant brings out box after box in their size to try on – and who also have the luxury of going up a size if their chosen pair happens to be on the ‘pinchy’ side.

Campaigners are calling for a standardisation of clothes sizes, but perhaps it’s time we gave some thought to the humble shoe, too.