Recently I told you of the trouble I was having with my hill hating socks (see ‘Sock Gravity’).
Since then there have been further developments. First of all I have realised that it is always the sock on my right foot that slides furthest.
Often indeed my left leg covering can be retrieved merely by a firm tug at the bit still showing, accompanied by a skilful wriggling of the foot. Whereas my right sock generally contrives to tuck itself completely away beneath my instep.
Right to the sole of the problem
I have yet to discover why this is. Even if there was some invisible variance between socks, it is beyond the realms of belief that on every morning I always manage to put the slippiest one on the right and the less-slippiest one on the left.
And the other puzzle I’ve uncovered springs from my continuing programme of fitness through self-torture.
Other hills cause no slippage
I now clamber up two more hills, one along the cliff path coming out of Sandown, and the other leading up from Hope Road to the cliff lift at Shanklin.
Both are steep and long enough to give me the heaving pants. Yet on neither one do my socks – right or left – show any inclination to tuck themselves away inside my shoes.
So it appears the phenomenon occurs only on west pointing hills. A conclusion I intend to check by climbing from Hope Road up to the cliff path that heads for Sandown.
Meanwhile I’m wondering if it could have anything to do with the Earth’s magnetic field.
Self-service
I’ve managed to master the new library system at Newport. It was just a matter of looking helpless and pushing buttons at random until some kind lady (it’s always a lady I find) came over and showed me how to do it.
But then I’m au fait with lappies, so I’m well used to doing what the machine tells me. It might not be so easy for those of us who remain bewildered by the computer age.
I wonder how many oldies have quietly stopped borrowing books because they are nervous over getting involved with the shiny new age and think they will appear foolish.
