One pair down, four to go.  It is at this stage that I wish I had given birth to dainty girls with size 4 feet.  Fortunately I have one pair to knit of that size, my Mothers, the rest vary from a mens 9 to a whopping great big 11 which happen to be extra wide as well.  Socks of this size tend to take me a good few days, I think there is about twenty hours in a pair, more if you happen to get side tracked by the film one is watching.

So why do I do it?  Because the joy of putting on a pair of hand knit socks, knit to your size, with a kitchenered toe (seamless) is one of life’s simple but greatest of pleasures, one you never knew you needed until you tried your first pair on. And as you squeal with delight as your toes explore the delights of the wool and the hitherto unknown space available to move and flex, you know there is no going back, socks will never be the same again.

Dad loves his socks.  He especially loves the brightly coloured ones on the days he has had to see his foot nurse, apparently they have a lovely conversation about them, the colours, the wool and the seamless nature of their construction is talked about and how beneficial it has been for old feet.

And when he saw new doctors for his poorly toe, one can imagine just how carefully he perused his collection of hand knit socks, to pick the perfect pair for maximum effect.  I wonder did he go for soft and comfortable or did the comedy in him lead him into picking the brightest stripey pair to get the most laughs.

But one thing can be sure,

they were all kitchenered with love and what more can a Father hope for from his daughter.