A very significant moment of the year has just occurred and passed, unnoticed, to all but me. I have put on a pair of socks. This ceremony is as clear a sign of seasonal change as naked druids dancing at dawn, but warmer. My knowledge of religion is intentionally limited but memory still serves to remind me of the discomfort of worship which is why I suggest that druids may be dancing without socks. There are few more precise indicators of hot and cold temperatures than my extremities so, henceforth, my socks and I will be an item until my feet let me know that the time to cast a clout is upon us yet again.
At this time of year, the introduction of socks into my daily life is not the only momentous change. The alliteration of sock and sausage leads me astray. Although not a committed vegetarian, I eat very little meat…..until the black sock is drawn over the foot like a blindfold. Senses numbed by superfine yarn to the squealing of slaughtered pigs I happily engage in consenting pleasure between man and sausage in the privacy of my own home although I draw the line at sausage dogging. I have seen how the pleasure afforded by a wholesome sausage sandwich can so easily lead to the free basing of pseudo sausages in sweet buns… known as “hot dogging”. Beware.