I've got my Dad's old fuzzy blue socks on today. You know the kind; soft, comfy, fluffy, unappealing, and covered in amazing anti-skid plastic-ky stuff on the bottom.
He loved these old blue socks. My sister got them for him when he was dying. They kept his cold feet warm. Or at least ''warmer''.
In the end, it was one of the little comforts she, and anyone, was able to give him. After a lifetime of working and earning and giving ... warm feet were his reward.
It's something to bear in mind when you're out there working, and earning, and giving ... your greatest comfort in the end may be nothing more than a simple pair of fuzzy old blue socks.
We're back in Qatar tonight; after 3 weeks away, experiencing the glory of the Baltics and the Norwegian Fjords. We're back to the sweltering heat and monotony of sand that characterise the ME in August and September.
On Sunday we'll be back to working and earning and giving ...
For tonight, these old blue socks are my reward.