A Store Which Puts Themselves in Your Shoes

A friend of mine's daughter works at John Lewis. She had recently mentioned that if you have a child with autism, you can call the store before you hazard a trip to the shoe department and they will have someone waiting.

Since the John Lewis kids' shoe department is usually about as packed as One Direction's mailbag, this was welcome news, especially when Alec's latest trip to the podiatrist revealled that he'd no longer need his special 'Piedro' boots. Joyfully, I realised that he would now be like everyone else, at least when it comes to footwear.

Not so joyfully I recalled the delhi counter ticket that I'd collected on Bobby's last trip to the shoe department, plus his insistence on shouting out every number as it came up in the fashion of some demented bingo caller.

Alec has been in Piedro boots ever since his brain injury in 2005, which happened to him at the age of 2. His 'special' shoes are mercifully rather trendy-looking ankle boots and they're also weighted to help his balance. They've helped him brilliantly - but all he needs now is some in-soles, which I've brought with, and some regular shoes.

This is cause for celebration, I try to explain, as his face starts to pucker whilst we head up the escalator and past the cosmetic ladies in white coats. Pretty soon his mouth is doing that upside down shape that's so unfamiliar to me, and his eyes are filling with tears. Oh no. We have 40 minutes before I need to collect Alec's twin from 'Stop 'n' Play' and this doesn't bode well.

I'd thought that Alec wouldn't need an appointment system. Laid back, passive, Alec. You could drop a bomb on the living room and he'd just raise an eyebrow. He is mostly hypo-sensitive, which means he usually needs sensory stimulation to wake up his nervous system. So not much bothers him. I'd felt like a bit of a fraud asking for the 'autistic treatment'.

Not now I didn't. As his crying turned to screaming and some surprised little faces stared up from their shoes, I realised that Alec had decided that today was to be AUTISTIC DAY. I'd bloody well messed with his master plan of following up a long hard day at school with chocolate biscuits and The Wiggles DVD. I was going to pay for this.

Although most of the staff were busy, fortunately they didn't really need alerting to our presence, as Alec was pretty much an air raid siren by now.

"Are you Debby?" said a voice.

The mum with the autistic kid who's screaming his head off? Take a wild guess...

"I'm Jane, come with me," said a capable, calm looking woman in a soothing voice. She had it covered, I could tell within 10 seconds. Jane led us away from the hectic shoe department and into a large and emtpy children's changing room. She brought Alec some stickers and some posters, which distracted him a bit. She showed him her feet measuring machine. When he didn't like it she took her time with him. By this stage I could have hugged her.

After about ten minutes, Alec finally realised that I hadn't taken him to John Lewis for the specific purpose of having his feet removed.

He started to calm down. He even gave little signs for 'yes' to indicate he liked the shoes. Or more probably, 'yes - whatever - now let's get out of here.'

Jane explained that she had some experience in working with autistic children. It showed. Every time she went away to get some more shoes, she announced her return before she stepped through the curtain. By this stage she had elevated to diety status in my eyes.

She knew what she was talking about with the in-soles too, which was good because I had no idea what to look for. In half an hour, we found some shoes that fitted perfectly. Alec, by now chewing the sticker collection, gave her a little 'thank-you' sign. And we were off, all smiles now, with me mentally reserving a large gin and tonic for myself.

We didn't leave before I'd told the manager what a good experience it had been, and apparently you can phone up John Lewis anywhere in the UK and ask not to wait in the shoe department - if you have a child with autism, that is.

This is the pinnacle of autism-friendly environments as far as I'm concerned. Usually I'd buy cheaper but they got my money because they thoroughly deserved it. I wasn't just paying for the shoes, I was paying for the expertise in handling my child and his needs.

Well done John Lewis. In an age where everything seems so impersonal and slapdash, you have won the heart and mind of one very grateful shopper.