I have begun to dread the postman calling at my door. He’s a very nice man but he comes bearing goods, that if I only used half the sense I was born with, I shouldn’t have ordered in a million years.

Unwittingly, I recently bought some of those new disposable shoes.

The ones that caught my eye were a bargain. Two brand new pairs, one in cherry red, the other azure blue (I may be renowned for draping myself in black but it tends to stop at my feet), for an unbelievable £15.

And what made this amazing shoe offer so utterly appealing was that, combined with the amazing price, the heel was perfect for 48-year-old me. A couple of inches high and elegantly turned but not pencil thin.

I gave up on ultra skinny heels ten years ago. They hurt like hell, I wobble like hell and they get embarrassingly stuck and damaged in one of Oxford’s pavements every three paces – but hey, time does wound all heels.

So, what made these too good to be true shoes, too good to be true?

Well, although they cost just £7.50 a pair they literally disintegrated before my eyes the very first time I wore them.

I don’t think they even made it to the bus stop intact.

They weren’t in fact a bargain at all. Costing around £1 for every thirty seconds worn, they must actually be my most expensive shoe purchase to date.

And if that was my only online purchasing disaster story I might be able to sleep at night.

I didn’t even realise I had such an addictive personality until I discovered eBay.

I can be browsing innocently for a set of industrial toenail clippers for a maiden aunt (I like to delight) and before I know it I have stumbled across, and am bidding for, a pair of gold knee-high GoGo boots and some 1940s buttons – complete with their original packaging.

And I always think I can take them or leave them – until someone has the sheer audacity to outbid me.

Then I absolutely have to have it.

I have now ‘won’ everything from an intricately detailed oil burner (posted all the way from China and now gathering dust in a charity shop) to a chipped pot shaped like a dovecote (now turned to dust at landfill).

I also own a Victorian cup and saucer in garish pink (far too ugly to ever be unpacked) that I got involved in a passionate bidding battle over late one evening.

However, I am convinced that one day I will think it was worth every penny of the £46.52 I paid for it.

And as for the gold GoGo boots, well, they are currently winging their way to me.

I wish the postman did always ring twice. Once to deliver the post and again ten minutes later to take it all back again.