Gone - but not forgotten…

We're about to address one of the unsolved mysteries of modern times: the riddle of the missing sock. And the riddle goes like this: How come a male domestic, aka a house-husband, can shepherd washing safely down to the laundry, wash everything in sight - often altogether - and lose a sock?

Where could they go? Does the machine eat them? I mean it's not as if the washing machine is some vast complexity. Even so, the socks I just bought to go with new trousers, have somehow been separated in the wash. And actually I had to admit I was really quite taken with those flash socks from Farmers - well, it's not as if we men rush out and buy them every day.

And then, still not quite believing, I hunted around the back and sides of the machine. Nothing. Explored the emptiness of the dryer. Still no luck. The hot water cupboard? Ditto. There's no trace in the bedroom, the bathroom, the stairs where they might have been dropped. One sock has simply disappeared - and it's always just one sock, old or new. It's as if it couldn't bear its significant other, and eloped with a sockette.

Maybe it has nothing to do with socks and everything to do with Dufferdom, an age where you can spend a good deal of your day searching. So off you go wearing one beige and one black sock, body hunched as if in pursuit, looking for lost glasses, books, things you could swear were there - before Someone moved them.

Paul Smith is an author, journalist and founder of the babyboomer website www.kiwiboomers.com

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