Some years ago, when my mother took herself off to Malaysia for a holiday, my father decided to take himself off shopping.
He came and stayed with me and, when I went to pick him up from the airport, it was not my father who first caught my eye at the arrivals gate.
It was the racing car red pair of trainers that were wearing him as he walked into the building.
'Pop, what on earth are on the ends of your legs?'
'Oh, these are great. They're the most comfortable shoes I've ever bought. They're brilliant.'
'They'd be brilliant if you're shooting hoops with your homies in East L.A, but I don't think any self respecting arms dealer would be seen dead in them.'
'I don't give a stuff what you think. They're comfortable, I'm wearing them.'
I had blissfully forgotten all about these shoes until last night. I was sitting in an airport lounge, equidistant from three things dear to my heart, the bar, the food and the news when I spied a pair of iridescent cobalt blue trainers.
Now, these trainers were in a totally different league to the ones my father used to wear. These guys had the ability to out-glow the sun. They were truly sensational.
You can't get your hands on a mirror ball for your next party? No problem, string these puppies from the ceiling and you'll be away laughing.
After my mind stopped with the shoes jokes, I took in the person: muscular, tanned, with tucked in polo shirt. I was just coming to the conclusion that the overall look could be described as preppy when I realised that this man was staring at me staring at him. And he was vaguely amused by it. He smiled at me and then went back to filling up his plate.
I smiled at him and went back to my magazine, feeling like a schmuck.
About fifteen minutes later, I was coming back from the loo and he was coming in directly the opposite trajectory path. He smiled at me again, and adopting the Seinfeldian School of Thought I immediately thought he was thinking, 'I know you like my shoes, don't you?' And I promptly continued to have an entire shoe conversation in my head with him, all by myself, as you do.
When I got back to my seat, it was bugging me that this guy was vaguely familiar.
It wasn't till I was on the plane that I worked who he was.
I'd have never thought I could say my father and Steve Williams could go shoe shopping together.