Fally-down socks

I've just had a fally-down socks day.

You know - one of those days when everything - EVERYTHING!! - you do and say is a disaster, from conception of idea to execution of task.

It started as I walked to work this a.m. in - THE SNOW - what's that about folks? It's almost April and we're still setting fires at night. Anyway as I walked I felt that irritating wrinkle of sock fabric bunching up in the arch of my left foot. I cursed , stopped and pulled it up and pulled at the other sock for good measure. Off I trotted again but Mr Sock-Left was determined to slough himself off despite my wishes and by the time I got to work the entire sock was bunched around my toes and my shoe was rubbing on my heel.

I got into County Hall, tugging the sock up as I rooted for my flexi card which also serves as an access swipe and which I had conveniently left at home. I borrowed the security guards swipe and then realized the lift was broken so I climbed three flights of stairs through the glass-walled atrium to get to my office. The creaking of my knees echoing around the space was most alarming, the noise not unlike that of Worzel Gummidge removing his head. I swiped into my section and stuck a box of paper in the door to hold it open while I ran back downstairs to return the security guard's swipe. When I came back up some bright bloody spark had removed the box of paper and I had to start all over again. So by the time I sat down at my desk I was in a lather of sweat - and the bloody sock of course had worked its way off again.

My day didn't get any better and I'm not going to bore you with the detail.It was a PMT day when I didn't have PMT (very, very, unfair God!)Suffice to say that the next day I head for work and feel a sock creeping down my ankle I am turning about-face slinking home and taking to the bed. Fally-down sock days should be a legitimate excuse for any absence.

But then God made it up to me and let me catch a programme this evening on television about my little spot of Heaven pictured above. Now I'm happy and I've banished the fally-down sock blues and am looking forward to my trip up to Sliabh Liag, Carrick and Glencolmcille later in the year. And I won't wear any socks.