I found out today where socks go. Sometimes even in pairs. It was raining, so, for my walk up the road to the local café, I grabbed my waterproof coat. With its flaps and toggles, and Velcro to cover the whole front zip with a waterproof baffle, this thing would be overkill on Everest. I opened the door and was about to put my arm in the coat sleeve, but it was absolutely pouring down and my super-absorbent suede shoes weren't going to cut it. But I was on a coffee mission- that was non-negotiable; I needed to get my target heart rate for the day. So, another day older, and hopefully another day wiser, I went back to the bedroom to change my shoes. I chucked the coat on the bed, sat down and set about the whole unlacing and lacing palaver. Done. Coat on. Take two.
Head bowed against the rain, I walked up the road, and, just as I turned the corner to the shops, I patted my pockets to make sure I had a pen and paper. And something caught my eye. My heart missed a beat. It must have happened, when I threw the coat on the bed. From the very bottom of my jacket's Velcro zip-flap, a new, grey sock with a big, bright red toe section was dangling vertically, and very unsubtly, at crotch height, right between my legs. I ripped the sock off and stuffed it in my pocket. And looked around. No one had seen. Phew.
I had my coffee. And on the way home, I retraced my steps. And outside my next door neighbour’s there was the other sock. So that’s what happens to them.
