The pair I need to pay thanks to - eulogise if you will - are my wonderful Asics shoes.

I brought them over to the UK with me, and had them for a couple of years in Australia before then.

A simple design, mainly white with modest navy blue and grey trim and logos, and for some reason the word AHAR is on their sole. I guess the shoes, like me, are fans of Alan Partridge. No wonder we're such a good match.

To say they've served me well is to do them a gross injustice. They've put up with my abortive attempts to convince many cricket captains I'm a viable bowler. They've stuck with me through thick and thin. Literally. I wore them every time I went to the gym, and lost a bit of weight in them through 2006 and 2007.

They hold especially fond memories as I wore them when I scored my first, and so far only, century in December.

If that's not enough, they have not uttered a word of disappointment about me putting on eight kilos when back in Oz, and has helped me lose six kilos (again) on my return to Blighty.

But now their magnificent service has come to an end. Falling apart, they've had to go. I'd like to give them a Viking funeral if I can manage it.

But, as the cliché goes, one door closes and another one opens. A new beginning with a new pair of shoes: my very trendy personalised Nike shoes, ordered four weeks ago and picked up from Nike Town last weekend. They're in my cricket club colours (light blue, dark blue and maroon), and have my nickname on the tongue of the shoes. All at no extra cost.

This week I wore them to the gym for the first time, and ran home, as usual. I'll be surprised if they wear out before me.

But every time I wear them, or watch Alan Partridge, I'll think of my Asics. 2004-2008. May they Rest in Peace (once I've torched them).

But change is inevitable, and all good things must come to an end. As they say, out with the old and in with the shoe.

Sorry.