Brief Advice from an Englishman

Wooly Bully

Call it an affectation. Because socks don't matter, right? Well they do to me.

I like my socks thick, all year round, and long, and gray.

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, in a cold and lonely place called the 1970s, I went to boarding school in the South of England. A prep school called Cheam. I started boarding at eight years old. My parents lived in a different country. Prince Charles had been at the school many years before. The pillow fights were good and the food was awful. I loved it.

We wore long, thick, gray, socks. I was packed off back at the start of ever term with my regulation socks and “garters”, a piece of elastic, sometime with a crimson fringe, to hold the socks up above the calf.

I lost all my garters within about a week into every new term. But I’m still wearing the socks—or as close as I can find—even today, as we approach the runway at O’Hare. I can’t tell you how reassured I am by my socks. Thanks for reading.

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  2. Kevin says:

    I agree. I’ve always liked thick socks; they’re just so much more comfortable.

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