But they're done and I guess if he doesn't wear them I won't have to mend them any time soon. Having spent a few hours these holidays darning socks and muttering thoughts not fit to be published about the futility of darning socks (especially when one pair is more 'darn' than sock), knowing that at least one pair of socks will not need to be darned next winter is a bonus. I am seriously contemplating the inadvisability of knitting socks and toying with the idea of vowing never again to knit a pair of socks apart from, of course, the pair already on my needles.
After all, I spend hours knitting socks only to have individuals put them on their feet and walk around in them all day until the silly things develop holes and I have to mend them. Why not knit a scarf or a hat or something that is not going to be subjected to so much abuse?
And since I gave them to DH as soon as they were finished I don't know if they count as a birthday present. Which is a shame because all I gave him, apart from socks, was a box of chocolates. As did Sons#2 and #4 (everyone knows my husband's weakness which, apparently, he can blame his maternal grandmother for since she was able to obtain chocolate even during the war years when it was rationed!).
Oh well. At least I made cake. Chocolate of course.
And the family did get together apart from Son#3 and his lovely wife who were up the mountain.