My own choice of footwear was rather carefully selected before I set off last week for the V&A’s Shoes: Pleasure and Pain exhibition, which I write about on the left. After all, it seemed likely in the circumstances that my selection would be the subject of some scrutiny.

In the end I went for a pair of well-polished brown Loake lace-ups with a Goodyear welted sole to guard against slipping on the escalators in the Underground.

“What, brown shoes in London!” will chorus those of conservative bent. Observation shows me, though, that this strict rule no longer seems to apply.

As it happens, I would not have found it difficult to keep my end up shoe-wise in town. Taught from childhood that good shoes are a reflection of good taste generally, I have always endeavoured, within my means, to go for the best.

In Oxford we are exceptionally well-placed in this respect through the existence of the excellent establishment Ducker and Son of Turl Street, who have been supplying shoes to the discerning since 1898.

One of their customers in the early days was Baron Manfred von Richthoffen, who was later to achieve fame as the German First World War flying ace the Red Baron. His unpaid bill for a pair of beagling shoes was written off by the company 75 years later.

I have had a few pairs of their excellent shoes over the years, though not hand-made to my own specification. The latest are the ones in the photograph below.

We are lucky, too, in Oxford for its proximity to Northampton, the home of the British shoe industry down the years.

More than 30 years ago, I set off there on a whim, convinced that in some back street I would find a specialist shoemaker able to produce footwear to my requirements. I found exactly that. He made five pairs of shoes for me, all of which I still wear.