Sock it to me

I was doing some domestic stuff earlier today, and was struck by the glory and proliferation of colour that is Mr WithaY's sock collection.

He used to wear tidy grey ones for work, designed to peek unobtrusively out twixt trouser and shoe.  Unless he was Doing Outdoor Things, which meant green socks, often huge jaggy long ones designed to prevent sneak attacks by weasels up your trouser-legs, or the type that you tie up at the knee with jaunty little knitted garters when you are out striding across the moor in your shooting breeches.

I'd just got used to it, I suppose. 

One day, when he was feeling particularly grumpy and fed up he came home from work with a bag from Dent's.  I asked what he'd been buying, as he tends to avoid going shopping, unless it's for Kit*.  Kit shopping can take all day, and he is as happy as a monkey in the chopped fruit section of the supermarket.

He emptied the bag out onto the table, and showed me.

Socks.

Not just any old socks, but jazzy socks.  Funky socks.  Hip hep-cat socks.  Socks with STYLE.  Socks with ATTITUDE.  Socks of many colours.

Apparently it was time to stop wearing dull socks, and from that day forth he was going to adorn his feet with the finest, brightest, least unobtrusive socks known to man.

He's doing pretty well so far.

And here's my entry for the Turner Prize:

It helps if you don't look directly at them.

By way of contrast, here is a snapshot into my sock drawer:

Please note the blue and (I think) pink socks, carefully arrowed.  Depressingly when you open my wardrobe, it is a riot of colour (except for the almost totally black "work clothes" end of the rail) but it seems my socks are undermining me.  Maybe I need to go shopping too.  At least my toenails are usually a nice bright colour:

 

Or a cute puppy is obviating the need for socks entirely:

Or I've got my mighty fine slippers on, so socks are unnecessary: 

Other news:  The chest infection seems to be on the wane, finally.  FINALLY.  It's been hanging around more or less permanently since early December, and I am utterly sick of it.  I'm still doing the horrible "cat with furball" noise every so often, but it is becoming less frequent, and the pain in my chest has pretty much gone. 

Other, other news: We are all anxious about Brother-in-Law, who has been taken ill unexpectedly, and is hopefully beginning to recover in hospital.  Love you all loads.

*Kit - all the bits and pieces that are absolutely essential for whatever activity is occupying him at that time.  Fishing equipment, boar-spear components, arcane and complicated diving accessories, Ray Mearswear, camping gadgets, all that stuff.