I left my flip-flops in Lagos when I was last here and they are now long gone. I thought I could get some in a go-slow but so far I haven't seen any.

Yesterday morning I went to the hole in the crumbled wall across from my guesthouse, and awoke a man sprawled on a woven mat across the floor.

"Do you have slippers?" I asked, as he scuttled around to the window to serve me.

"What size?" he slurred, pulling out two pairs of swirly purple plastic shoes. One pair were the size of a small hovercraft, the other fit for a medium-sized child. Neither fitted me.

"This is ten" he said holding up the small shoes. "And this is eleven," flapping the large pair. "You must be ten and half."