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Thursday, 19 January 2012

The Wrong Socks

We went to a funeral yesterday, for a popular doctor in our town. Because he had been an elder in the church, the current session met to pray before the service, and were told that seats were saved for us as the attendance was expected to be large.
I’d spent the  morning sniffling with an incipient cold, so I dressed warmly in jumper and scarf, long black wool coat, wool trousers and socks, and sensible shoes for negotiating grass in the cemetery.
We filed into the church and were ushered to the rows of choir chairs. I was aghast to realize that because of the way the seats had been filled, only the front row remained and we duly took our seats there, facing the congregation!
I felt like we were on show. Self-consciously I began to mentally check out how I looked. I’d thought I’d be anonymous in a pew, where my sniffles and warm clothing would go unnoticed. Here I was in the front row ... and then I remembered my socks!
While very warm, my socks were also very light grey and contrasting with my dark grey trousers and black shoes. I quickly uncrossed my legs, hoping to lengthen my trouser legs so that the socks would be less visible.
And then there was my nose. Red and running. I had to sniffle silently into a damp hanky. Everyone probably thought I was a little too emotional.
Mental note. Next time I go to a funeral, I wear dark socks.

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