In which your author is unable to purchase a pair of wellington boots

In this, the coldest, wettest spring for many a year, I thought it high time I equipped myself with a pair of wellie boots to fully equip myself for soggy walks up the Bummy Woods with New Dog. So, we stride into Go Outdoors, the UK's premier purveyor of outdoor clothing and equipment and stride a bit more into the footwear department.

"Excuse me," I say to the Justin Bieber lookalike walking the floor, "I'm after a pair of size nine wellies, and you appear to be a bit short of stock. Are you expecting a delivery?"

Bieber looks me up and down, and answers thussly: "No."

I am agog.

"No? Whyever not?"

"Head Office says it's summer, and we don't stock wellies in summer. In summary: Summer."

"Yet you still have enormous quantities of snow shovels," I riposte, pointing out a display containing enormous quantities of snow shovels.

Bieber shrugs. "Sorry, sir. When Head Office says it's summer, it's summer and there's nothing we can do."

I ask him to speak up, for the sound of hail hammering on the store's roof drowns out our conversation, but my protests are for nought. In the face of a global shortage, where stocks are presumably diverted to the southern hemisphere, there are no boots.

I eventually track down the final pair in the known universe, and walks to the Bummy Woods can go ahead as planned.