Russ Stevenson, the owner of a bar-steakhouse in Ely, while flipping the meat with a three-pronged iron fork, declares: Take what you need, some people buy new shoes just to put in the tree without recognition, or they swap them for other ones they prefer, a little while back a hitchhiker, he had shoes so worn out with holes he had blisters on his feet, and he took a pair of boots like the ones we used to have in the slaughterhouse, and he left behind his old trainers. He turns and makes a movement with the trident aloft: it orbits through the air. His 120-kilogram bulk also turning about his waist, a spinning top movement: he beckons the first clients of the evening.