I was sent on a day's training from work recently and it was inspiring like it was supposed to be as well for my ongoing socksual fascination. I say that because I wouldn't want you to think that I was distracted from my key purpose for the whole day. But in the afternoon the trainer lady appeared back from a tea break with bare, patchily red feet. She explained the situation thus: 'I'm sorry I've had to take my boots off but I lost one of my socks at the hotel I stayed in last night and so I've been in bare feet under my boots all day and now they're rubbing and they've dyed my feet red.'

Now there are many layers of interest to this tale of course - why did she only have one pair of socks with her? why didn't she wear the one sock left to protect one foot? and why didn't she have more concern about showing us her feet in a professional context? - but my main interest of course was her casual assertion about the loss of a sock. One night in a hotel room and a sock is lost forever; to be referred to subsequently in the most cursory of fashions as though we should accept this kind of thing as completely normal. Which of course we do - but why? It's weird how often a sock goes astray. Completely bizarre when you think about it. Don't just accept it, stand back in awe at the power of the single sock and regain your sense of childlike wonder at the world!

Don't know what the socks were like but without them the boots left patchy rust red marks on the feet.