Granny Hogwash & Mr Socky

Granny Hogwash & Mr Socky

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Once upon a time, in a small village, there lived a little, grey-haired granny called Granny Hogwash.

Granny Walsh was her real name, but for the longest time, everyone called her Granny Hogwash because ‘hogwash’ was all she would ever say to anyone.

‘That’s hogwash,’ she would say to the shop assistant as he charged her for her groceries, ‘everything was much cheaper in my day.’

Or just plain old ‘hogwash,’ she would mutter to her neighbours whenever she walked past them.

‘She’s the cranky old lady who lives down the road’, they would whisper behind her back as she hobbled by carrying her shopping bags.

But, what people didn’t know was that cranky Granny Hogwash was really lonely Granny Hogwash.

Ever since her husband passed away and her children grew up, she lived by herself in her little house.

Her children hadn’t meant to neglect her. But the years went by, and they had families of their own. Their lives grew busier. As a result, they had less time for everything, including visits home. That’s not to say they didn’t come home at all. But, when they did, their mother no longer lived there. In her place was Granny Hogwash.

Granny Hogwash would shout at her grandchildren for being noisy and make them all sit at the table and drink tea that was days old.

Her children thought this was because she was too mean to make fresh tea every day.

And her grandchildren used to cry whenever it was suggested they would visit.

‘Please,’ they would scream, ‘we don’t want to drink cold tea, and we won’t be able to play.’

So after a couple of years, Granny Hogwash’s children and grandchildren had almost stopped visiting her altogether. Except for one day in the year, her birthday. And this day was coming up very soon.

Actually, it was tomorrow. But, not surprisingly, Granny Hogwash was not looking forward to it.

‘Noisy, noisy grandchildren,’ she growled as she made her way home.

‘I wish they would forget my birthday,’ she thought as she scowled at another neighbour.

She didn’t even bother to mutter ‘hogwash’ to them.

Continuing to talk to herself as she opened her front door and went into the kitchen. Then all through putting away her shopping, as she boiled the kettle, took her clothes off the washing line, folded them and put them away. She didn’t stop once.

She was used to talking to herself and would be pretty shocked if anyone answered her back.

Suddenly she noticed something lying at the end of the laundry basket. A small white sock. Just one white sock.

‘You’re not my sock,’ she mumbled as she lifted it out from the basket. ‘How did you get in here?’

Laying it on the kitchen table, she inspected the lonely sock.

‘Mhh,’ she thought to herself, ‘someone must have put it there, and I’m going to find out who?’

She picked the sock up. When she was young and wore socks, she always had her name inside the top band. So she searched, but there was no name to be found.

‘Typical,’ she thought, ‘people today obviously don’t care about their socks.’

Then it crossed her mind, ‘what if there’s no name because she was being spied on by a secret sock spy?’

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She searched every bit of the sock, but still, there was no name to be found. Finally, she placed it over her hand to turn it inside out.

Suddenly the sock came to life. Granny Hogwash turned her hand around, and the sock said, ‘hello!’

‘What do you mean, hello?’ Granny Hogwash was shocked.

‘Hello, as in pleased to meet you, Granny Hogwash.’

‘Hogwash’, squealed Granny.

‘Pleased to meet you, my name is Mr Socky,’ the sock continued.

‘I don’t care what your name is, and for your information, my name is not Granny Hogwash,’ with that, she pulled the sock off her hand and threw it across the kitchen.

‘What cheek, how dare the sock call me Granny Hogwash.’

Only then did she realise she had been speaking to a sock.

‘This can’t be happening. Socks don’t speak, oh dear, now look at what my imagination has gone and done, making up talking socks.’

Standing up and pulling her cardigan closed, she walked to the kitchen counter to make herself a cup of tea. But where had the sock gone? She was sure it landed next to the kettle.

She comforted herself by saying, ‘yes, it was just my imagination.’

But while making her tea, she noticed twitching in the corner of her eye. Ignoring it, she continued, ‘funny thing, the imagination.’

Finally, the sock stood up on its own.

‘What did I do? Why are you so mean?’ Mr Socky was visibly upset.

‘You spoke!’

‘And why is that a bad thing?’

‘You are a sock, and socks do not speak.’

‘Clearly, that is not true. I can obviously speak.’

Ignoring Mr Socky, Granny Hogwash sat back at the kitchen table.

Mr Socky managed to fling himself off the counter and back onto the table. Then looking directly at Granny Hogwash, he asked, ‘Why are you so rude?’

‘Go away,’ Granny Hogwash frowned, ‘can’t you see I am ignoring you?

And it is you who is rude. You called me Granny Hogwash.’

‘But that’s your name?’ Mr Socky was confused.

‘No, It is not,’ Granny Hogwash was horrified.

‘Oh, but, well…’

‘Well, what?’

‘But that’s what your neighbours and family call you.’

‘What? Well, tomorrow I will not open the door to my family. They can go away again. See if I care, Hogwash indeed!’

That’s not true. Your family does care. You are always nasty to them and make them drink days old tea.’

‘How would you know? You are just a sock,’ Granny Hogwash was very confused.

‘I am not just any sock. I am Mr Socky the sock puppet.’

‘Ok, Mr Socky, the sock puppet, what exactly do you do?’

‘I am an entertainer,’ he replied.

‘Go on then, entertain me.’

‘You know, I’m a puppet.’

‘And?’ Granny shook her head confused.

‘You have to put me on your hand.’

‘Fine,’ Granny Hogwash snatched up the sock and pulled it over her hand.

Mr Socky started by telling Granny Hogwash a joke. She didn’t laugh. Then he told her another. Still, she didn’t even smile. Then another and another, he had almost given up when slowly a slight curl appeared on the sides of Granny’s mouth. And she laughed really, really loudly.

‘Stop.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to be happy because I am so very lonely.’

‘You have me now. We can be friends.’

Mr Socky continued chatting to Granny, telling her stories of the people he had known, adventures he had. Granny told him stories about her life before she found herself all alone.

They continued chatting late into the evening until Granny eventually fell asleep exactly where she was sitting. She stayed there all night, waking up early in the morning with a smile and feeling completely refreshed.

Humming a happy tune, she sat back in the chair. The song quickly turned into Happy Birthday when she remembered what day it was.

‘Oh, they will be here soon. I must get everything ready.’

Only then did she realise that Mr Socky had disappeared. But she had no time to look for him, she had to tidy the house and get a birthday cake.

When she walked by her neighbours on her way to the shop, she smiled and said ‘hello.’ When she was buying the cake, she smiled at the shop assistant and said, ‘nice day today, it’s my birthday’. He wished her a happy birthday, and she headed back home.

She had just set the table when the doorbell rang. Instead of scowling at her grandchildren, this time, she smiled, ‘there’s a birthday cake on the kitchen table if someone wants some.’

Oh, yes, please,’ the children shouted before remembering that Granny didn’t like noise. But this time, instead of yelling at them to be quiet, she said ‘quickly, quickly,’ and they all headed for the kitchen.

As they all ate birthday cake and drank lemonade, Granny told them some of the stories that Mr Socky had told her. It was late in the evening before anyone decided they should be going home. No one wanted to leave because they were having so much fun.

Eventually, they had to, but not before everyone helped Granny tidy the kitchen. Whilst cleaning, Granny’s youngest grandchild found a sock in the corner by the back door.

‘Look, mum, it’s my sock, the one you said was eaten up by Mr Washing Machine.’

‘So it is. I wonder how it got here?’

Hearing what was said, Granny turned around, ‘you found him, you clever girl.’

‘Who?’ she asked.

‘Mr Socky, the sock puppet,’ Granny explained.

‘But that’s my sock, Granny.’

‘But, not just any sock,’ Granny slipped it over her hand, and suddenly Mr Socky appeared.

Mr Socky and Granny laughed and danced around the kitchen together.

Suddenly she was surrounded by all of her grandchildren, who hugged her and told her she was the best Granny in the whole world. And before they left, they all asked could they visit again next week.

‘Absolutely,’ she smiled before hugging all of her grandchildren as they left the house.

As she closed the door, she turned to Mr Socky, ‘what a wonderful day it was,’ she smiled, but he didn’t reply.

Slowly she walked back to the kitchen and put Mr Socky down on the counter next to the kettle.

‘I’m glad we found each other,’ she continued, ‘you are the best little lost sock.’

Granny was Mr Socky’s voice from that day onwards, and every week they would entertain her grandchildren when they visited.

And so it was that Granny Walsh (not Hogwash anymore) and Mr Socky lived happily ever after.

 

 

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