One of the delights of a life NOT working as a clinician in a busy city hospital, is waking up on a Good Friday morning, and knowing that you do not have to go in to work. That you can have a bit of a lie in listening to the radio, a relaxed breakfast, a few hours of ‘morning’, and then the option of attending the 3 hours’ service. After working with the NHS for 28 years non-stop, this awareness still arrives with surprise, and a certain degree of pleasure.
This year, an unexpected phonecall both gave great pleasure and resulted in an earlier breakfast than anticipated. Thereafter, the Gathering Of Household Chores were clamouring for attention.
So it was that the Sorting Of Socks became paramount.
CLEAN socks can be disciplined in a drawer, resting - but ready for immediate action. After wearing, amassing socks awaiting communal cleansing can be hidden away – discreetly - in a laundry basket. Clean but damp socks will be found festooning the best drying areas available, until adequate dehydration has been accomplished.
The next bit is where the process dawdles. Serried ranks, sock upon sock, shoulder to shoulder, of multitudinous vintage, sex. patternation and colour need to be re-united with a twin........which MUST be there..........SOMEWHERE........
However you tackle it, there is a need to Sort Socks. Maybe you sort them as you hang them to dry. Or pair them up as you take them down. Or take them down in a heap and sit in the sunshine Sorting Socks.
In the early days of the ChickPea/TH household, TH found Christmas to be A Time Of Socks. Seasonal Santa Socks, and the like joining and re-invigorating the party on a regular basis. (Such Socks may not be ‘cool’ in the office, but they brighten up a dull morning when you’re hanging up socks to dry, and make ‘pairing up’ a doddle). After several years of easy Christmas shopping for ChickPea, TH put the foot down and Such Socks Seest – sorry, ceased.
Hence, drowning in the mire of Sorting Socks, ChickPea overlooked both the little hand AND the big hand reaching 12 on Good Friday, so crept in late to the 3 hour service. Woops.........
(We’ll need to track down some of these racy numbers with patterned heels and toes that were out and about at the Foot Washing on Maundy Thursday).
