There's a touch of the decadent about going out and buying twenty new pairs of socks and then chucking out practically all of your old ones. Sure the total cost is fairly small - how much does a 5 pack of plain black cotton socks cost anyway? - but these socks have encased your feet for the last year. Or more. Whilst they weren't perfect and you were reduced to finding approximate pairings in many cases but ... dammit, they were still serviceable. It's a bit like buying the mega-giganto bucket of chicken because it's only 1 quid more expensive than the 3 piece combo and then chucking half of them away. It just seems so wrong. Which is why buying a complete new sock wardrobe feels so right. And each morning - Oh my! For the next 3 weeks every morning you are presented with unsullied rows of virginal socks - like a comfy cotton regiment of ankle warmers, all standing perfectly to attention. Every day! For 3 weeks! Bliss. It's like getting into a newly made up bed. Only, in some ways, better. Like getting into a bed in which the sheets are new and made up for you each and every morning. Mmmm, new socks. I salute them.