My knitting has reached an interesting stage where I find myself with two single socks, His and Hers.
Waffle Cream, but she thinks Chelsea sounds more sophisticated. After two weeks at the bar, she's just a tiny bit tipsy
She has all but given up hope of pairing up when suddenly...
... who should burst through the door but John Huston, Tarnished Hero, clutching the lonely hearts section of the listings magazine to his throbbing instep.
He walks right up to her, beer in hand: "Hey Girl," he breathes in a husky voice,"You look mighty warm-hearted and squeezable. Would you like to to rub your toes on my rippling twisted stitches?"
Butterscotch Milk Punch.
"A Guardian reader! I bet you're a feminist too!"
"Uh huh," leers John, "I won't ever expect you to shave your legs or paint your nails!"
"But...will you do your own washing?" she asks, breathless with anticipation.
"You better believe it, babes!" he chuckles.
"I like nothing better!"
"My Hero!" she squeals, tumbling into his woolly embrace.