Little Sock is small and white. Okay, the sole is grayish – it had been worn by Little Boys – but that’s beside the point. Little Sock is my travelling companion and this is the story of how that came to pass. Dear Reader, it’s actually quite embarrassing…
*Nice job starting that in the right place, Clicky… /pats snouth… You can carry on helping me tell the story…*
It happened a few years ago, one cold, dark winter’s morning…
Laden with old laptop (i.e. heavy) and handbag overstuffed with paperwork, I pulled my big-arse coat close around me…
…and set off up to The Big Smoke for an early morning meeting with senior managers. On the way I did as other commuters do…
…and so didn’t notice the stowaway sock on my shoulder…
*I do not look like that, Clicky! …/thinks… Okay, maybe during the train portion of the journey…*
From Here to There, Little Sock had a grand view of the journey: train, tube and trot through windswept tunnels and frozen roads. To anyone I passed, it must have looked like I’d taken a direct hit from a great height…
The first time I noticed the stowaway was when I shook my coat off at the other end. Little Sock floated to the floor… In front of the bods I was meeting!
Apparently, Thoughtful Man had everso thoughtfully used my coat, innocently hanging over the banister the night before, as a suitable place to dry Little Sock. The poor thing, having lost its sibling, was still damp after coming out of the washing machine…
*Rude…*
That would have just been an embarrassing story; however, it only happened again less than a week later!
*Way, Clicky!*
Little Sock, it appears, had got a taste for travelling. Not wanting to give the impression that I’m Big Bird’s toilet again…
…I decided to give Little Sock pride of place in my handbag. That way it could travel with me everywhere…
*I’m just thankful it was Little Sock and not Little Boots, Clicky…*
Library of Libraries 