Why is it that socks go into the laundry basket in pairs and emerge from the dryer determinedly single? I spent ages this evening trying to reunite lone socks with their partners, but the bag of widows and orphans seemed almost as full when I had finished. So where do all the lost socks go?
Robbie is very particular about his socks, he likes to buy them from his beloved Marks and Spencer’s. I really don’t understand what the attraction is, I have always thought of it as a geriatric paradise, and I have never bought clothing from there, it just isn’t me. Robbie on the other hand is obsessed with the place and at the slightest opportunity he will head to M&S and while away a couple of hours doing a complete stock analysis. Anyway he buys his socks mainly from there.
His taste in socks is almost as eclectic as his preference in shirts! He likes loud colours, and why settle for one loud colour when you can have loud stripes – he likes stripes! They even put in an appearance at our wedding. I have written before about the compromise we reached concerning Robbie wearing shoes rather than Dr Marten boots to get married. The little detail I had overlooked was the socks. On the day we were getting ready to leave the house when Robbie emerged wearing a very nice suit and bare feet. In his hand he carried a brand new rather noticeable pair of pink socks. There was no way that he was leaving the house in those, and after a forlorn attempt to fight his corner he headed back upstairs get some different socks. I thought nothing more about it until we were asked to sit down during the ceremony. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robbie’s immaculate shoes and his hideous socks – they were clashing stripes of different blues. I have held a grudge against those socks ever since, but the dratted things never get separated in the wash and they show no signs of wearing out!
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