I don’t know why, but when my feet got cold this afternoon, it became hugely important to find matching socks. This was no easy task but, after 40 odd years of never giving a hoot about socks, the little buggars had to match. How weird is that?
It was so strangely important, I started to attach magical outcomes to the achievement of finding a pair. Continue reading
This cartoon made me laugh my socks off because it brings back so many memories. All those early pitfalls and unanticipated problems that spiralled from the tiniest bit of communication bijiggery*.
Like when Richy Rich took LB camping for a long weekend with some of the other kids. He was about five. Richy called from the beach on the Friday evening; all eating fish and chips, everyone having a fab time. So, so cool. First thing in the morning LB got up and said “Home”. He’d camped. Job done. Continue reading
mydaftlife 