I've been listening to a Daphne du Maurier drama on Radio 7, from a novel published in 1969. The hero and heroine are upper middle class as evidenced by the heroine flying with her children from New York to London, something only the wealthy could do in the sixties. Yet, after dinner, the same character spends the evening mending her husband's torn trousers. When, I wondered, did we stop mending things?
I still have a pair of socks that I darned in 1981, but I can't remember darning a sock since, although I still make occasional small repairs to other items. One of my New Year's Resolutions will be to go through my sock drawer and darn all the holes I find. After all, I did earn the darning badge when I was in the Brownies.
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