I am a little anxious about blogging. Is it possibly the most egotistical form of written expression? Is the self-chronicling blogger even more tiresome than the adolescent poet? Am I fretting too much considering no one cares?!

So I was in Topshop Oxford Circus earlier, and, to celebrate London Fashion Week, they were having ongoing 'blogging clinics' with successful fashionista bloggers offering the hapless shopper advice on, presumably, how to also become a successful fashionista blogger. The problem is that in Topshop, height and indifference are the hallmarks of cool - and consequently, being short and enthusiastic, I am deeply un-cool. Just to compound self-consciousness, I have a habit of absent-mindedly picking up a bizarre item of clothing, holding it for just a second too long before realising that it is in fact a size 6 neon lace all-in-one with a velvet crotch and foil shoulder-pads (or something equally confounding) and then shoving it back with a sense of acute embarrassment. No, there is no way I could have approached the fashionista bloggers to discuss their views on bloggery.

It's not just Topshop that's against small people. Shops in general like to laugh at us. They install security cameras and then place all the size 5 shoes on a 7 ft high shelf. They make us stand on straining tip-toes, ask for help, or even occasionally climb - the ultimate behavioural proof of NOT being tall and indifferent. It's a terribly cruel trick - you go into a shop hoping to purchase something which will alter your short-and-enthusiastic image, only to be reminded of it at every turn, until the point where you quit Topshop and go to Octopus on Carnaby Street to look at toasters decorated with clouds, and forks with faces.