Home and Dry

Everyone occasionally lost socks in the wash but Jane was experiencing a fifty percent casualty rate.

“I don’t understand it,” she muttered to herself, as she pulled the latest load out of the tumble dryer.

Fourteen socks had gone in but only seven had come out. She lined the survivors up: “And it’s always only one from each pair.”




So, she bought herself some sock clips. “You won’t be able to split up now!” she told her new batch. And they didn’t. When Jane opened the tumble dryer at the end of the cycle there were no socks left at all.

Jane screamed in frustration. “What the hell is going on?!”

“That’s exactly it—hell,” came the reply.

Jane turned but all she saw was her sensible cardigan, airing on the clothes rack.

“Who’s there..?” she asked cautiously.

“It’s me—the Sensible Cardigan,” said the Sensible Cardigan. “And the problem is that you’ve got a portal to hell in your tumble dryer. Every pair of socks is made up of an evil twin and a good twin and the evil twins are getting sucked straight to hell. Unfortunately, because of the clips their good twins have gone with them this time. Do you understand?”

The Sensible Cardigan paused and looked at Jane.

“You’re a talking cardigan…” she said.

The Cardigan sighed. “Do try and concentrate, dear.”

“Yes…” Jane tried her best. “Er… I must admit I didn’t know that clothes went to hell.”

“This is a special fashion hell,” said the Cardigan. “Where clothes go when they ‘peg out’.”

“On the washing line?” said Jane.

“No,” said the Cardigan. “You know, ‘peg out’.”

“Ah,” said Jane. “So, my socks are gone for good?”

“Well, I am loath to let the innocent remain in torment,” said the Cardigan. “I’m prepared to make the attempt to retrieve your socks. Hell holds no fear for those that are pure. And I am—one hundred percent pure cotton.”

“That’s very kind,” said Jane. She gestured at the dryer. “Do I just… bung you in then?”

“Oh, dear God…” said the Sensible Cardigan under its breath. “Absolutely no sense of the dramatic.”

It addressed Jane. “Yes, just ‘bung’ me in. I can take it from there.”

Jane screwed up the Cardigan and shoved it into the tumble dryer. She clicked the switch to ‘on’.




The Sensible Cardigan spun round and round, and at the back of the dryer the swirling black portal began to materialise. Tightening its weave, the Sensible Cardigan rolled up its sleeves and passed boldly through.

It was nightmarish. Everywhere there were clothes suffering all the horrors that fashion could bestow on them. To the left, lime green blouses for women; to the right, cropped trousers for men. The Cardigan shuddered. No clothing deserved that.

However, it had a quest to complete. It averted its gaze and made its way forwards.




The Sensible Cardigan was starting to lose heart after journeying through the whole of 80s fashion. Fashion hell was so big and the socks could be anywhere.

But then it heard a familiar little cry.

“That’s Good Twin Red-and-white-stripes-with-the-reinforced-heel’s voice!” said the Cardigan in delight. It hurried towards the sound.

And halted in horror. The poor little sock had been matched up with a tartan tie. The resulting clash of patterns was unbearable.

“I’m here to save you!” cried the Cardigan. It pulled the sock away from the tie and stuffed it into one of its pockets. “Where are the others?”

“They’re all nearby,” said Good Twin Red-and-white-stripes-with-the-reinforced-heel. “We were put in a big pile and now we have to spend eternity trying to sort ourselves back into pairs.”

“I see them!” cried the Cardigan. It dashed over, and then stopped and stared at the socks. It was a very big pile.

“I’m never going to be able to sort out the good from the bad,” decided the Sensible Cardigan. “I’m just going to have to take all of you.”

And it began stuffing socks into its pockets and up its sleeves.




Jane opened the dryer and the Sensible Cardigan tumbled out, socks spilling everywhere.

“Oh, well done!” said Jane. She picked up the Cardigan and hung it back on the rack. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re most welcome,” said the Sensible Cardigan with dignity. (Whatever the situation, it kept itself buttoned up.)

Jane started collecting the socks and putting them in the basket. “I’ve found an exorcist electrician online—he’ll be popping round on Thursday to get rid of the portal. Apparently, it’s a more common problem than you might think.”

She rubbed a sock between her fingers thoughtfully. “Though it seems a pity we can’t keep using hell—these are all bone dry.”

The Sensible Cardigan gave her an unbelieving look.

“Oh, put a sock in it,” said Jane.