Woke up in a hotel room, looked for my socks and i had not packed any fresh ones for my day, i was frozen to the core. Yesterdays socks always make me feel like i have one foot, sometimes two, in the past. I was in a grump. Breakfast was basic, not very nice and the coffee stained my teeth. At lunchtime i had breakfast again. This time it was on par with what i might be used to. Back home two hours later and fresh socks in the drawer, i was almost normal again. Outside in the park horses and people riding them, jumping them over jumps and horse boxes parked at angels all over the fields. The sound of a posh voice echoing over a tannoy. I changed my shirt. I fell asleep, almost, i was awkward on the sofa. Glenn meanwhile was enjoying his birthday with friends in London, i sent a card and thought about the 41 other birthdays i had shared with him like this one, from a distance, but never before with such a sock issue. What has become of me, where is that boy from Combe Avenue who might have enjoyed the same socks for days on end. Cissy when she was a young girl would cry and rage at the wrong socks. Grace did too. Perhaps its normal to feel like this, a day of not quite rights. Like most days i blink when i wake up and its bedtime. I fear the days but love the sleep and the nights with my old socks beside the bed fallen from my feet as i retire like a soldier to my deep self. M&S for the wool all year round sock of the year award. Even in a sandals they look good!