Mrs Bard is always complaining that I wear odd socks. I argue that since nobody can see them it doesn’t matter. In an attempt to reconcile this man-fault I purchased two packs of day-named socks. In a rush to get changed yesterday and with my mind firmly elsewhere I realised I had slipped back into old habits. I don’t seem to be the only sufferer of sock-induced-myopia…

Peter Cox,
Wore odd socks,
His wife was beyond despair!

His son Ben,
Wore them again,
When out with an au-pair!

His sister Boo,
Would steal them too,
And complain they wouldn’t share!

But their dog Spot,
Stopped the rot,
And hid them all sous-terre!

© Baldock Bard 2013
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