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This is the first chapter of ‘The Puffer Chronicle’ – an account of my modest involvement with high heels over the years. If you have any questions or constructive comments, I will do my best to answer them, but please understand that certain things in my life must remain confidential. Looking back over what is now quite a long life, I cannot really remember how or when my interest in high heels (or, indeed, women’s footwear in general) truly started. It probably stemmed from an accumulation of minor experiences and observations gained as a young boy. I had a growing perception that there were distinct differences between ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ and how they normally dressed and behaved. I realised that some ‘girly’ things were not permitted for boys (or men) and were therefore somewhat mysterious and, in their way, both attractive and enticing. Certainly, there was little to stimulate interest at my home in West Middlesex in the 1950s. I had a younger brother (but no sisters) and a father who was distinctly old-fashioned in dress – and usually in outlook too. My mother (aged 30 when I was born) never had any aspirations to a glamourous or even particularly fashionable appearance. She was something of a ‘free spirit’ and could well have been a hippy if they had been invented when she was a teenager. She rarely wore footwear with any sort of heel (and never above about 2” or stilettos) but liked flat sandals, although here again they were generally more frumpy than smart. I don’t recall any relatives, family friends or neighbours whose clothing or footwear was particularly elegant either – but we were still emerging from the austerity and rationing that followed the Second World War. The one exception was a cousin by marriage (aged around 30 in the late 1950s) who was fairly short and invariably wore 4” stilettos; a pleasure to see when we met perhaps once a year. Of course, there were sightings in the wider world – this was the start of the ‘rock-and-roll era’ and plenty of young (and not so young) women were embracing its typical fashions. Tight or full skirts, beehive hair and, of course, pointed stilettos were everyday-wear for many. I started at infants school in the autumn of 1953. Unusually, my teacher for all three years there ‘moved up’ with my class. She had a kindly and effective influence (and imparted in me much valuable knowledge, well-remembered to this day) and we were all fond of her. As she had at least one daughter living abroad, she was probably in her early 40s and was tidy and presentable rather than intentionally smart in what she wore. The other teachers - all women - dressed similarly, although the headmistress was always well-groomed and usually wore low-heeled suede court shoes. (It was rare to find any teacher, male or female, whom one might consider to be ‘well-dressed’ – and my observations suggest that nothing much has changed in 60 years.) I had to go into the local hospital to have my tonsils removed, and in fact was there on my seventh birthday - so got an extra helping of jelly and ice cream. The nurses were talking about Bill Haley and Elvis Presley, then relatively unknown but soon to become famous. Those were the days when nurses wore ‘proper’ uniforms, with seamed stockings. Matron and some of the other senior nursing staff looked very elegant in their close-fitting dresses with starched aprons and caps, and wore high-heeled ‘Oxford’ lace-ups - a style that I will always associate with ‘women in uniform’. Back at school, my perception of my teacher changed dramatically towards the end of my final year in her class in 1956. We had some sort of formal event at the school – probably a visit by the mayor or some such – and she dressed quite elegantly for the occasion. I was blown away by the sight of her black patent court shoes, with pointed toes and stiletto heels that must have been close to 4.5”, which she wore effortlessly. Alas, there was no repetition and mediocrity reigned for the rest of my time there, with little change following my 'promotion' to the junior school, as I shall describe in the next instalment.