Pyjamas

I know it's not very sexy, very hip or trendy, but I just love my pyjamas!

I've slept in the buff for about twenty years. I loved my pyjamas when I was a very young boy, but when those teen years came around, I started to rebel. I hated the way I'd wake up in the night with my pyjamas twisted all about me. So, one day, I just took them off. Liberation!

Hang on, if I was so liberated, why did I hide my naked shoulders under the covers when Mum came in the room?

A pyjama free night was a good night, in my humble opinion.

A good night's sleep was a naked night, that is, up until October last year.

On going into hospital for my laparoscopic fundoplication, I decided pyjamas were in order. I didn't want nurses and other patients seeing a naked Minge! So, off to the shops I skipped and bought myself some fabulous Ted Baker pyjamas. Grey ones. Almost brushed cotton. Like a t-shirt. I had a duvet cover like them once. The manufacturers claimed it was Jersey material - though it was nothing like a jumper...

Anyway. I took the pyjamas with me into hospital. In the absence of my blanky and sicky clothes, my pyjamas became a real comfort. I felt warm, safe and secure.

I've never been out of them since I came home.

I wash them, dry them and I'm wearing them again the next night.

Summer's here. I should be sweating through the night. But I'm not. I refuse to sweat. I can't be without my pyjamas.

I haven't had my blanky or sicky clothes out for an age! What's wrong with me? If I'm feeling down, ill or only mildly under-the-weather, I'm usually found with my sicky clothes on and my blanky wrapped around my shoulders.

My sicky clothes are a pair of Boy London weight-lifting pants/trousers and a grey sweat top (with a small mark from a gold marker pen) which is far too big for me, along with a pair of black slipper-socks. My blanky is a blanket which I crocheted about three years ago in shades of blue. Lots of stripes! I feel so much better with my pyjamas on, or wearing my sicky clothes with my blanky around me. Why is that? They're better than any pills or medicines.

Do you have any rituals or rites that you perform, dear reader, when you're ill or down-in-the-dumps? Or do you wear certain items of clothing? Or do you play a special CD or read a particular book?

A perfect time-for-Minge day would be thus:

It's Winter and lashing with rain outside and very cold. The sound of each rain drop hitting the window is quite audible. The coal fire is burning like a furnace. I'm sat on the floor, on several large, downy cushions, my back against the sofa. Or davenport. I'm wearing my pyjamas. I've also got my goonie on (very Arthur Dent) and my blanky wrapped around my shoulders. I've got a flask of coffee on the floor next to me and my favourite BA cup. I also have a large box of very expensive Belgian or Swiss chocolates and a pot of custard. One of the dogs is lying alongside my legs, the other is on my lap. I'm watching Meet Me In St Louis on the television and have other DVDs lined up for when that's finished: Female Trouble, The Exorcist and Nighty Night (series one and two).

When it gets dark, I'll put the light on and fall asleep watching TV, eating chocolates and drinking coffee. When I'm sound asleep, someone will carry me up to bed, without stirring me from my deep slumber, take off my blanky and goonie, put me into bed, plump up the pillows around me and pull the goose feather duvet up around my neck.

If I do wake, I'll soon drift off to sleep again and dream about warm summer days, lying in meadows, feeling the sun on my face, holding hands with my friends, making wishes on dandelion seed heads, laying on my back and watching the fair-weather clouds roll by, making daisy chains and watching birds dart in and out of the long grass, singing as they go.

Perfection.