There are three great unsolved mysteries of our time.  By ‘our’ I mean our family.  And by ‘family’ I mean the husband, Kimber and me.  Three great unsolved mysteries, and two of them involve socks.  That’s just how it goes in our house.

Mystery One: Mystery of the Missing Diamond

This is the first mystery to involve socks.  I know it doesn’t sound like it from the title, and titles aren’t my strong point, but if you’ll just indulge me a while longer, you’ll discover the sock connection.  Several months ago I was having dinner and drinks with an old friend from university.  During the drinks part of the evening, I realised that one of the diamonds from my engagement ring was missing.  Gone.  Disappeared.  Not there.  I froze, staring at the diamond shaped hole in horror.  I looked around but it was nowhere to be seen.  Not wanting to spoil the evening, I didn’t mention it to my friend, and convinced myself that it must be at home.  After all, who loses diamonds on a train, or in the street?  Over the next few weeks I searched everywhere.  I emptied the contents of the hoover every time it was used, and even took to checking that Kimber hadn’t eaten it…  Eventually I gave up looking, but didn’t give up hope of finding it.  And then one fateful day, the temperature dropped.  It had been an unseasonably warm autumn, but as the nights got shorter, it started to get colder.  And so one day, I picked up my slipper socks (yes, socks) and popped them on.  As I walked I could feel something pinch against my toe, and cursed the puppy who brings tiny stones into the house to play with.  I took off the sock, pulled out the stone, and stared, this time in disbelief.  The diamond was back, found inside a slipper sock that hadn’t been worn for some months before the diamond was lost.  What?!?!

Mystery Two: Mystery of the Missing Yoghurt Top

I know this doesn’t sound very promising from the title, but it is a little odd.  You may be glad to learn that there are no socks involved in this mystery.  At least, not that we know of.  It’s a fresh mystery and the incident itself only took place yesterday.  The husband and I have been eating fruit and yoghurt for breakfast lately.  Inspired by our recent trip to Australia, I’ve been cutting up mangos and nectarines (yes, I know, food miles) and we’ve had blueberries and raspberries too.  We then add flaked almonds and cinnamon.  It’s a delicious and nutritious breakfast.  The yoghurt we favour comes from Yeo Valley, and we like that they a) congratulate us on eating British food (makes up slightly for the fruit that’s flown in from the far reaches of the globe), and b) serve their yoghurt in a large tub that fits into our fridge door.  Yesterday morning was no different from any other morning.  We assembled and ate our breakfast, returning the ingredients to their rightful homes in between.  So you can imagine my surprise when I opened the fridge yesterday evening to find that the yoghurt tub, sitting where we’d left it in the fridge door, was without it’s lid.  It hadn’t fallen onto the floor.  It wasn’t sitting in the body of the fridge, protesting at being left alone on the door.  It was, frankly, nowhere to be seen.  It had disappeared as if in a puff of smoke.  The husband has no idea where it’s gone: I questioned him closely.  Kimber just wags her tail when I ask her.  It’s perplexing.

Mystery Three: Mystery of Where Kimber Keeps All The Socks

Now I think it’s quite clear from the title that this mystery involves socks.  Agreed?  Good.  Now, the socks.  Kimber loves socks.  She loves pants, but socks are her favourite.  She especially likes to take socks just as you’re about to put a load of clothes in the washing machine.  In fact, she’ll survey the pile of washing before plucking a sock and running off with it.  As a result of never having all the socks, I normally buy all the same colour socks.  Then I can at least pretend we’re wearing a pair of socks.  But before Christmas I made a schoolgirl error.  I bought the husband and I a load of new socks.  We really needed new socks and I bought some crackers.  Patterns, colours, stripes, the lot.  Socks that need a proper partner, rather than a pretend one.  Socks that you can tell whether you have a pair or not.  So now I really need to find where Kimber takes the socks.  I know she’s got a hidey hole somewhere, because I can tell how many socks are missing.  Mainly because I can count the number of single socks.  Single socks that are crying for their partner.  Their proper partner.  All I can say, is thank goodness for boots.