‘Hogwash,’ grimaced Granny, 'this village is just sooo small.’
Granny’s real name was Alma Walsh, but for the longest time everyone called her Granny Hogwash.
‘Hogwash, why are you on the street dog, or, hogwash, will you watch where you are going?’
‘That’s hogwash,’ as the shop assistant packed her groceries, ‘everything was much cheaper in my day.’
Or just plain old, ‘hogwash,’ to her neighbours as she walked past.
‘She’s that cranky old lady who lives down the road,’ they whispered 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 Walsh.
Ever since her husband passed away and her children had grown up she lived by herself in her little house.
Her children hadn’t meant to neglect her. But as the years went on and they had families of their own, they had less time for everything, including visits home.
That’s not to say they didn’t come home at all, it’s just when they did, their mother no longer lived there, in her place was Granny Hogwash.
Granny Hogwash, who shouted at her grandchildren for being noisy and made them sit at the table and drink days old tea.
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.
Granny Hogwash didn’t like her birthdays. 'Noisy, noisy grandchildren,' she growled to herself as she made her way home.
'I wish they would forget my birthday,' she thought scowling at another neighbour as she passed by.
She continued to talk to herself as she went through the front door, onto the kitchen and as put her shopping away.
Then all the way through, boiling the kettle, taking her clothes off the line, folding them up to put away. She didn’t stop once. After all she had got used to talking to herself and would be quiet shocked if anyone answered her back.
It was then that she noticed a small white sock lying at the end of the laundry basket.
‘And just who do you belong to?’ she questioned, as she lifted it, with the tips of her fingers, out of the basket.
Laying it on the kitchen table she sat down to look at it further. ‘Mhh, someone must have put it there as a joke.’
‘I hate jokes, I am just going to have to find out who did it?’ Picking the sock up Granny searched for a name.
There had to be a name on it. When she used to wear socks she had always neatly sewn her name inside the top of the sock. But this sock was nameless!
Then it crossed her mind; what if there was no name because a secret sock planter was spying on her? Shivers crawled up her spine. Frantically she searched every section of the sock, finally placing it over her hand and arm to turn it inside out.
When suddenly the sock took on a life of its own and using Granny Hogwash’s hand turned around to face her and said ‘hello’.
‘What do you mean hello?’
‘Hello, as in pleased to meet you Granny Hogwash,’ the sock continued.
‘Hogwash,’ Granny shrieked.
‘My name is Mr Socky.’
‘I don’t care what your name is and my name is not Granny Hogwash.’
With that she pulled the sock off her hand and threw it across the kitchen.
‘The cheek of that sock to call me Granny Hogwash,’ only then realising that it was a sock she had spoken with, shocked, she slumped into her chair.
‘Socks can’t talk,’ Granny decided after a few minutes of silence, ‘I just need a cup of tea.’
But the sock had landed next to the kettle and as she made her tea, she could see it twitching out of the corner of her eye.
Granny tried desperately to ignore it until finally the sock stood up of its own accord.
‘What did I do?’
‘You spoke,’ answered Granny.
‘And what was wrong with that?’
‘You’re a sock.’
‘And what if I am?’ the sock jumped off the counter and made its way to the table, where Granny was sitting drinking her tea.
‘There is no need for you to be rude.’
‘I am not, you are rude, calling me Granny Hogwash indeed!’
‘But that's what your visitors called you.’
‘Oh so it was them,’ Granny was shocked, she knew her Children and Grandchildren rarely visited her, but to call her Hogwash, was just too upsetting.
‘Well come tomorrow I will not answer the door to them.’
By this time Mr Socky had made his way up onto the kitchen table and was face to face with Granny.
‘That’s not true, I heard them say how much they cared for you, but you were always nasty to them, and made them drink days old cold tea.’
‘How would you know, you're just a sock?’
‘I am not just a sock, I am Mr Socky the sock puppet.’
‘Well, what do you do Mr Socky the sock puppet?’
‘I am an entertainer, a puppet, you have to put me on your hand before I can do anything.’
Granny Hogwash snatched up the sock and pulled it over her hand and instantly it began.
Mr Socky started to tell Granny Hogwash joke after joke after joke. At first she tried not to laugh but eventually Granny Hogwash sides were aching with all the laughing she was doing.
Then Mr Socky started to tell Granny story after story after story. The both of them continued on in this manner late into the evening until eventually Granny Hogwash fell asleep exactly where she was sitting.
She stayed there all night and early the following morning she woke up with a smile. Humming a happy tune to herself, it quickly turned into Happy Birthday.
‘They will be here soon, I must get everything ready.’
Only then did she realised Mr Socky was missing, but she had no time to look for him now. She quickly tidied the house and then went to the shop to buy a birthday cake.
This time as she passed all of her neighbours she smiled at them, greeting each of them with a big ‘hello.’
When she bought her cake, she smiled at the shop attendant as she filled her shopping bag, ‘nice day today, it’s my birthday you know.’
The shop attendant smiled back and wished her a happy birthday.
Back at home Granny had just set the table when the doorbell rang, and this time, instead of scowling at the children she smiled, ‘there’s a birthday cake on the kitchen table if anyone wants some?’
‘Yes Granny,’ they said loudly, only then remembering that Granny didn’t like noise, but this time instead of shouting at them to be quiet she guided them all quickly to the kitchen with a smile.
As they all drank lemonade and ate birthday cake Granny shared Mr Socky's stories from the previous evening.
It was late before anyone decided that they should be going home. But no one really wanted to leave. They were all having so much fun.
Eventually they had to, but not before everyone helped Granny tidy the kitchen. It was then, and only then, that Granny’s youngest grandchild found a sock in the corner of the kitchen.
‘Look mummy, it’s my sock, the one you said was eaten up by Mr Washing Machine.’
‘So it is dear, I wonder how it got here?’
‘You found him you clever little girl,’ Granny was overjoyed.
‘Who?’
‘Mr Socky the sock puppet,’ Granny smiled.
‘But that’s a sock Granny.’
‘Yes, but not just any sock,’ and with that Granny slipped the sock over her hand and started to tell jokes using it as a puppet.
‘You’re the best Granny in the whole world,’ Granny Walsh’s youngest grandchild laughed, as she gave her a big hug.
Before they left they all agreed that they should visit Granny and Mr Socky again next weekend. Then each in turn kissed Granny on the cheek.
Granny lifted up Mr Socky to see if he was ok, but he never said a word.
Sitting back down at the kitchen table, Granny thought out loud, ‘not bad, not bad at all for a little sock who was lost in the washing machine.’
From that day onwards Granny was Mr Socky’s voice and every week they would entertain her grandchildren. And so it was that Granny Hogwash and Mr Socky lived happily ever after.
Drawings by Maria Gillen
Story by Tina O'Rourke
