I received an e-mail this afternoon to let me know that Cameron suffered bruises and lacerations but nothing more. He has been discharged to recover at home. Having seen him lying in the road with blood all over his shirt I am amazed and mightily relieved. I suspect the driver is also breathing a long sigh of relief.
We missed a walk today due to poor weather. We trudged gamely up to Jewry Street to have lunch at Brasserie Blanc. Jolly good the food was too. Yesterday we booked Mrs. Ha’s birthday lunch at Rick Stein. There is something to be said for not having a proper kitchen to call your own. Then we zig-zagged our way home. No alcohol of course but a few shops to investigate. Winchester has two Waterstones and I have discovered an inability to walk past without going in and buying something. Today I emerged with 3 books to ward off the threat of rainy days ahead.
Then we explored – wait for the excitement – the sock racks at M&S. Cheapish they may be but you can’t buy one pair. They seem to come in a week-long supply. That means you have to buy some naff colours to go with the ones you want. I refuse categorically to wear canary yellow socks. I am not French or Italian. Red I can live with as a Welshman but I draw the line at yellow. So M&S drew nothing from me and we wandered off (a zag this time) to that esteemed emporium, Cadogan, home of Joseph’s Multicolour Dream-Waistcoat, admired by so many. Mrs. Ha checked the price. Well unless we want to mortgage Lulu I don’t think it will ever find its way into my wardrobe (if I had one).
I on the other hand was back on a sock purchase mission. I selected several individual pairs of tastefully coloured socks with nary a canary in sight. And at that point I went to pay. £27. Each pair. At this point I could do my usual quip about wanting to buy the socks not the store, put them back in horror and dismay or simply hide my embarrassment and cough up. Guess which I chose? £135 for 5 pairs of socks. I am tempted to have them framed and hung on the wall (clean of course). I don’t think M&S sells anything that costs £135. The difference of course is that my socks are ‘Made in Italy’ and the week-long kaleidoscopic sock-pack from M&S would probably have been made in Sri Lanka or worse still, China. So I evidently have the advantage of style and workmanship par excellence. Except that I shall be too scared to wear them.
We headed home. I was heavy of heart and light of wallet. Mrs. Ha seemed to think we had had a narrow escape and bought well. Never mind the width, feel the quality. Then I thought of Cameron and how short life might have been. I can only conclude the there is a message in those socks – get out there and live life to the full. There is no place in life for M&S socks. Especially if they are canary yellow.
I rounded the day off with a fulsome rant at the Lexus dealer and strangely I now feel much better. I didn’t ask what socks he was wearing.
Here as reward for getting to the end of the sock-saga, is another image from Winnall Moors.