Oct 14 2015

‘Sock it to me…’

Published by at 8:45 pm under News

The Sock Press

Of course, we had one of these in our house on Killala Road. We used to call it ‘The Stocking Press’ because there was a large plastic bag in there that was full of the boys socks, washed and unwashed. Sometimes when the older brothers would be going out on a date they’d just swap socks out of the bag and put the other pair in. There were plenty of single socks that had no match, socks with the heels worn out, socks with a hole in the toe, socks that came all the way up to your knees, plain socks, coloured socks, socks that had been darned with the wrong coloured wool or thread, the odd pair of socks and maybe some of the girl’s nylons full of ladders. The first thing that hit you when you opened this door was the smell of dirty feet and then you had to open the bag. This haze would come floating out and wrap itself around your face and leave you gagging for air. Happy memories…

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