About this Blog

This blog started as an online diary and place for me to rant about annoyances in my family.

However since July it has become a place for me to catalogue and express my views and opinions on the treatment I have recieved following the diagnosis of a potentially cancerous tumor in my bowel.

On 3rd August 2011 I was told that it was cancerous. In April 2012 I was given the all clear.

October 15th 2013 I was diagnosed with peritoneal disease and liver metastases. The cancer was back and this time it is inoperable.

It is a little bit out of date as the NHS doesn't tend to have a WiFi connection in hospital and I can only post when I get home and posts take a while to write.

It is NOT about individuals or the nursing profession. It is about some of the inadequacies in the system and the way the NHS is failing some people.

For more inane ramblings, follow me on twitter

To see my crafty loves follow me on Pinterest
Follow Me on Pinterest

Why not like my new Facebook page
http://www.facebook.com/thepoohstickqueen" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-show-faces="true" data-share="true">

Or follow my photographic craziness on instragram

Friday, 12 November 2010

Musings on Socks

I am currently knitting a pair of Bamboo Rib Socks from Simply Knitting (October 2009) and this has led me to many musings about socks.

They are a strange phenomenon, small but so important and very time consuming to knit, lots of counting, decreasing, increasing and matching things up so that they look beautiful. 

You can't really skimp on leg length or foot length like you can with other things. You can't really stop once you have completed one, you must do both ( who needs one sock???).

Then there are shop bought socks, especially kids ones which seem to disappear into the space time continuum when washed. Isaac has several odd pairs of socks as does Imogen.

Then there is the ease of removal of socks. By 8-9 months old Isaac was regularly removing his socks, an activity which he still finds amusing especially when we are out and about. I have probably left a trail of toddler socks across Southern England. Imogen on the other hand seems to have no desire to remove her socks. This does delight me, sometimes the only way to determine whether she is a boy or a girl is to check the socks.

Then there are the types of socks. Tony is a black sports socks man, but they leave black blobs of fluff everywhere. Most match but as they are from a variety of sources there are differences between some. On the plus side this does mean that holey ones can be thrown out and pairs can still be formed. 

My dad on the other hand has 7 pairs of socks, black with coloured heels and toes, 1 for everyday of the week. When I suggested that he might want more, he laughed. He does his laundry once a week and so needs no more.

Me, well I have a variety. I love over the knee socks, although given my height they become knee highs for wearing with boots. I have coloured and patterned ankle socks for wearing with trainers and lots of thick fluffy ski and hike socks for this time of year.

Socks, don't you just love 'em,