Everyone loves Christmas because Christmas is the time when you get new socks. You can walk around with your head held high and matching feet for the first few weeks of January, at least until one of each pair head off to pastures new.
Ronnie at work reckons there is a planet made of socks and biros somewhere. She designs outdoor garments, so she’s definitely more of an authority on socks than I am. But here are some other theories on where your rogue socks could have gone.
- Your sock has given up on the system, got a solar panel and dreads, and is living van-life off the grid. Rest-assured it’s probably doing yoga with some incredible view.
- Your sock moved to the city to become an actor but is working in a dancing bar now. It’s too scared to come clean and tell you it wants to come home. Kind of like Kyote Ugly.
- Your sock has gone cycle-touring round Wales. You’ll see it in a few weeks, it’ll probably be damp.
- You wore your sock on a particularly smelly feet day, so it was exiled to live on the streets. I’m not sure what the sock equivalent of streets are.
- There’s a portal to a parallel universe located in your washing machine. Your sock fell through it.
- Your sock read that book on fastpacking that you got for Christmas and was inspired to run the width of Europe with just a small knapsack of essentials.
- Your sock just fell behind the laundry basket. You should probably clean behind the laundry basket more.
Merry Christmas! Enjoy your matching socks whilst they last!
– Hati
Hati Whiteley 