I rummage through my drawer, looking for socks. Find a slightly impractical fluffy pair buried at the back. Perch on the edge of the bed, put them on slowly.
These are Christmas socks, the novelty extra soft variety that pad out a stocking, worn on a couple of chilly winter evenings, but mostly relegated to the back of the drawer because they don’t fit in shoes.
Alice has pink ones. When she gets home from school she stomps up the stairs, changes straight into pyjamas and fluffy socks. Stomps back down. I’m not sure how someone so small can crash so loudly.
My feet feel cold.
Photographs courtesy of West Dean College