Exhibit "A", m'lud

There, despite protestations to the contrary, in the foyer, behind the front door, lie the blue socks. The very blue socks that mean that Ottawacker Jr. is currently without his goalkeeping kit. The problem is, you see, that Ottawacker Jr. has been practising his goalkeeping on artificial turf. Artificial turf is made up of recycled rubber and some god-awful artificial fibres that attach themselves to socks and only come off when they are removed individually or placed in the washing machine. If they are removed individually, it means touching socks impregnated with adolescent sweat. This, as much as I love my son – and I love him deeply and unconditionally, I am not prepared to do. I am also not prepared to put them “as is” in the washing machine, and then spend an hour going through the various filters removing strands of indestructible fibre, and a further hour removing those strands of indestructible fibre that had not escaped into the works of the washing machine from the other clothes that were washed alongside the adolescent’s football socks. Removing the indestructible fibre and pieces of rubber from football socks is a task which has been conferred upon Ottawacker Jr. It is a task which he does not relish and, as a consequence, it is a task he completes unwillingly, when he completes it at all. To counter this lack of motivation in my much-loved son—and to prepare him for a life in which things have occasionally to be done whether you like them or not (tasks such as changing your much-loved son’s nappies when he was an infant)—I have refused to wash any clothes that are not in the laundry basket, and into the laundry basket may be placed only clothes that are devoid of indestructible fibres. This has been explained and re-explained. I realise have a tendency towards the verbose, so when I give instructions to those with a tendency to switch off, I make these instructions concise and clear. I also provide frequent reminders. And yet, there in the foyer, behind the front door, still lie the blue socks. It is a veritable conundrum.
 
Today, however, was not filled with any other conundra, Mrs. Ottawacker, freshly returned from a brief weekend with her siblings, was in a very good mood. We had breakfast outside, and even managed a trip to Navan to do some meat and vegetable shopping. Well, we managed the trip; the shopping didn’t happen because I had forgotten that Lavergne’s was closed on Mondays… Even that failed to dampen her spirits. We laughed like Father Ted and Father Dougal in their video for Ireland’s entry to the Eurovision Song Contest.