Desperately seeking socks

They are available in many different shops, in all sorts of different colours and styles, so you would imagine that it would not be such a protracted chore to buy some new socks. Typically, when I have something specific in mind, the very thing I seek eludes me like a two-bit tease. Two pairs of socks; one plain red and one plain mustard. This was what I originally had in mind. This was, of course, before my two loyal pairs of brogues went on strike. Before every Tom, Dick, and Jenny had a pair of brogues which would add the finishing touches to their faddish wardrobe of the minute.

My search led me to online shops, high street stores (when I could summon the gumption), Ebay, even supermarkets and yet each search proved fruitless and my feet remained unhappy in shabby socks of yore. My innocent searching on Ebay led me to the not-so-hidden world of the foot fetishist. The next time pay day seems a bit far away, I'll know that I can sell off a couple of pairs of grubby socks to fund that week's shop down at Lidl. £8 for one tatty pair of (formerly white) sports socks with 6 days of bidding to go. And that's not even to mention the market for used tights. 

Cosy socks

  One day, I was feeling confident, yet evidently confused, as I finally left a shop with not one, but three pairs of socks. Inside the shop, I my abulia had me by the scruff of my neck for a good 25 minutes as I weighed the pros and cons of each different pair of socks available in the three for £6 offer. 

 

Back at the office, in the cold light of reality, the socks were revealed to be far from copacetic. As the haze of denial slowly lifted, I realised that I had bought a collection of entirely frumpy foot coverings that also strayed into the realms of novelty. My 'favourite' pair which in the shop looked like they had a very jolly snowflake pattern turned out to have twee lovehearts on them in between a design which only slightly resembled a snowflake. The second pair were red with small dalmatians on them, the like of which I had not seen since my time in the school orchestra. The third pair, which even in the shop I couldn't fool myself that I was really that keen on, were grey with an oranges and lemons pattern and would definitely be usually spotted on a Christian woman  wearing a mid-calf length skirt and a pair of sandals. Suffice to say I returned them later that afternoon.

But as one doors closes, another one opens. When I returned the ill-judged triumvirate of frumpety foot wear, I happened to pop into another shop, merely on the off-chance of finding a replacement. And what should I find beaming like a beacon of light on a dark and stormy night? A pack of five socks in a variety of colours including the holy grail mustard. Of course, it typically transpires that, when put to work, these socks are short, not quite as short as the very stupid trainer sock but heading in that direction.

And so the search goes on which at least gives me a small project in between anything interesting and worthwhile I might want to do. It's the little things that count, don't you agree?