Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Close knit.

Like Madame Defarge we sit, under the shade of our awning, cooking slowly in the reflected UV light, knitting relentlessly.  The order has just been doubled and the footy socks are turning out as though on a production line.

Sure we get the odd quizzical look, or to be more truthful, I get the odd quizzical look and even the odd enquiry as to my well being, but I carry on like a person possessed.

At my most recent charge-out rate, each of these mini-socks is worth around eighteen hundred dollars, or for those mathematically challenged, more than three and a half thousand dollars per pair, but no price is too much to pay for socks for our grandchildren.

Tomorrow, daylight hours become fewer, the week begins again with the hope of documents to be received from their people, and we'll probably move from Batemans Bay to somewhere further north.



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