After a cheeky little weekend in my dad's cottage and the best sleep I can remember having, I made out like a bandit. Not only did I bag Barn-ay (literally, me and little nins carried him home in a couple of bin liners) I got these babies. Dad's old socks, yeah. But, they're good. Really good. My sock obsession continues- to the point where I'm actually nicking other peoples, isn't that sort of like a peeping Tom or an actual perv?
Put a sock in it.