Pockets are socked by many

I named it socksinmypocket without thinking too much. But I suddenly wondered if it was a song title or something. It is. But I also discovered lots of other people find socks in their pockets too. Socks end up in the pockets of the absent minded, the not yet confident sandal and sock wearers and the very keen bush-walkers. And pockets end up containing socks after the crossing of unexpected rivers, because of a dog that becomes impossible if there is any sign at all of going for a walk or because the pocket owner has small children. Pockets are socked by tall people whose feet are too far away when drunk, by those who have lost their gloves and those who feel that it is not quite the time for stripy socks but feel it might be later. And finally socks are pocketed by those who enjoy the sensation of bare-feet in gumboots but know in their heart that this is not conducive to walking very far, the people who really do travel light and as a memento from a one night stand. The song is still stuck in my head “Socks in my pocket…”

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