It's not often that you go shopping, return empty-handed, and consider the trip a success.

I did yesterday, however. My two objectives were to sell a signet ring which my grandfather had left me many years ago and which I've been putting off doing anything about, and to buy some new footwear. So I went into town with the ring on my finger, on the grounds that this seemed like the best way not to lose it, and returned without it and with the new boots on my feet. (I was admittedly carrying my old shoes in my rucksack, which is sort of cheating on the ‘empty-handed’ stakes, but nothing I'd bought was in my hands or in my bag so I think the letter of the claim isn't violated. Quite.)

I initially took the ring to a jeweller my mum had recommended. They decided it wasn't their kind of thing and directed me to another nearby jeweller, but they also cleaned and polished the ring free of charge while they thought about it, which I think amply justifies Mum's comment that they were lovely! So I went on to the second place, who informed me that after all that hassle it was only worth about £25 as scrap gold.

I find the whole concept of jewellers rather scary. The first place had a huge display of incredibly sparkly diamond rings: tiny little things you could lose down a drain if you weren't careful, with discreet little price tags next to them saying things like ‘£4000’. I can't imagine what I'd have to be thinking to wear something worth that much on my finger. Even if I knew I had it insured against loss or theft, I think I'd still worry about it making me a target for muggers. And as for the number of other useful things I could be doing with that much money … it's two thirds of what I paid for my car, for goodness' sake. It would have to be really important to me to look sparkly. Or to look rich.

The second place didn't have a conspicuous display of unbelievably expensive rings, but what it did have was a locked door which only opened when someone inside pressed a buzzer. I can only assume that what wasn't on show in there was even more valuable than what was on show at the first place!

The jeweller I eventually sold the ring to was a rather lovely old guy. Initially, when he told me it was only worth £25, he advised me to keep it and wear it, on the basis that it would be worth more in sentimental value than it was in money. I briefly considered it, but decided against on the grounds that I've never been big on jewellery to begin with, and even if I were I don't think a large gold signet ring would be the first thing I'd pick to go with my personal style. So I said no, I wasn't much of a ring person, and he grinned and showed me his empty hands. ‘Know what you mean,’ he said, ‘I just make them.’

I decided that even at this low price, it was still more use as £25 in my pocket than as a ring I was never going to wear; so I signed a form saying it was mine to sell and the guy handed over £25 in cash. Then he looked at me rather sternly and said ‘If you buy a bottle of drink with that…’ For a moment I thought he was going to caution me about the low moral character which might be displayed by my potential trading of an inheritance for something so transient; but then he grinned again and said ‘… think of your grandfather when you drink it’. Awww.

Then I went and bought some boots. This was terribly successful as well. I've always liked the idea of boots, because I'm really pretty bad at keeping my ankles straight and it's a reasonably common occurrence for me to step on an irregular piece of ground the wrong way and turn my ankle painfully. So footwear that provides ankle support has always appealed to me in principle.

However, I'm incredibly impatient with complex fastenings, on clothes in general and footwear in particular. For the last five or six years I haven't even bothered to lace and unlace my shoes more than about once every few months; I just keep them laced up a little bit loosely and slip them on and off like slippers. So the big downside of conventional lace-up boots is that they take five minutes to get my feet in and out of, and this causes me to feel somehow trapped. One of the symptoms of feeling thus trapped is that I develop acutely itchy feet and then start to desperately scrabble at the laces, wasting ten minutes of lace-and-unlace time for the sake of five seconds of scratching. No fun at all. So after a couple of brief experiments, I pretty much gave up on boot-wearing and regretfully reverted to ordinary shoes.

A few weeks ago I mentioned all this to xanna, who pointed out the existence of ‘Chelsea boots’, with elasticated bits at the sides and no fastenings at all, so they could be slipped on and off as easily as slippers. These sounded ideal in practical terms, so I went off looking for some. Unfortunately, at the time, the only ones I found were either (a) in expensive London shoe shops, (b) designed for unreasonably rich people, (c) a ridiculously silly shape, or (d) all of the above.

However, yesterday I walked past the shoe stall in the market and discovered they had Chelsea-style Doc Martens. They provide ankle support, they can be removed in under ten seconds, and they don't have stupid-looking tapered or square toes. I could therefore see no reason why they weren't the best possible boots I could own, and so now I own them. Hooray!

So I returned from my shopping trip with an absence of rings on my fingers and an absence of annoying laces on my toes, and nothing in my hands whatsoever. Success!