Loser...

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There are some things that are certain in life.  My father would say that 'dying and paying tax' would be his two dead (excuse the pun) certs.  I like to add another one.  The England football team will never win a penalty shoot out against Germany.

Yesterday I added a temporary one.  

I will not be winning the money at Binland Diet Club this week.

But why should this be, I hear you ask.  Why must it be a Walk of Shame rather then a Walk of Claim later on this morning?

Well, ladies, I'll tell you why.  My weekend has been one of alcohol, birthday cake, waffles and bacon, lemon posset, chips, doorstep bread, more alcohol and sausages.  This was because there was a massive party on Friday, hangover on Saturday (see waffles and bacon), with Sunday starting well with a six mile walk with the husband, but ending with a delicious three course Sunday lunch/dinner.  (What do you call a 3.30pm lunch anyway?  Lunner? Dinch?)

The late lunch was with daughter number two and Jolly Sock Man, who is fast becoming another part of our glorious hotchpotch of a family.  We were talking about his love of wacky socks, and daughter number two let slip that he has three grades of available socks.  

Some covered in fruit, animals or fluorescent 1980's abstract patterns.  Garish and loud, they scream, 'Look at me, people!'

Then there is the more serious striped or spotted sock, usually in a muted colour.  Happy to be seen, but forgotten in an instant.

Finally, we have the navy or black socks for formal business meetings.  Invisible to the seasoned Sock Observer.

Every time we've met him, his socks have looked like an un-returned work of art from Vision On.  Imagine a sheet of A4, some primary colour paints and a four year old with an attention span of ...well, a four year old, and you'll get some idea of what I mean.

So do these brassy looking socks mean that he has a 'devil may care' attitude towards us?

I don't think so.  I'm hoping that he's simply relaxed enough in our company now to let it all hang out.

Well, not all, but you know what I mean...


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