Reality bites as my boots are now only for walking

RECENTLY your columnist played a soccer game with his colleagues, an inconsequential matter among good friends which was more about opening the lungs than the result (won by the ‘oldies’ 4-2, though: in your face, youthful exuberance!).

My usually keen parsing skills let me down slightly in the run-up to the event. I didn’t realise until the day before kick-off that the email announcing the details of the event stated the game wouldn’t take place in a gym or on a five-a-side pitch, but on an actual grass-and-mud-based field.

This was a problem, because I don’t own a pair of football boots. I haven’t owned a pair for several years.