It's been a cold winter this year and I've relished my nightly open fire and my sinful electric blanket at night. Come the equinox each autumn I also slip into my old faithful pyjamas. I bought them as separates and while they don't fulfil Drew's ideals of sexy nightwear, they've been a comfortable and discreet beige and taupe outfit. The knit top has short sleeves and scoop neck. I don't need the extra warmth around my neck. The pants alas have suddenly developed extra unwanted ventilation, so I took the opportunity of a trip to Devonport to replace them.
I mean, how simple is that? I sidled past the lingerie shop with its racks of long nighties and frilly little numbers and made a beeline for Sussan. There I was confronted with the colours of the season - pink and mint green. Now of all the colours in the world, the ones I can't wear are green, pink and yellow! So although I trawled through all the racks on special, there was nothing in my size that I could wear or even want to wear.
So what is it with pink? Why are we thrust into wearing it - from birth in fact? I guess it suits some people but it's such a helpless, ineffectual colour. I even find it difficult to place in the garden. It's hideous with red or orange or even most blues. It's such a fifties and sixties colour. In fact when we moved to our house at Riverside when I was in my teens, the 40s house was painted out in pink and pale green! Gran had one room repainted and we had one wall in pink, one in primrose and one in aqua. The other wall was polished blackwood cupboards. Eeeyuk!! I guess that's part of the reason for my cringe of pink, and, yes, pale green. It's all tied up in the angst of my adolescence!
But I have a favourite joke:
A man (from the sub-continent?) applies for a job at a call centre. The challenge is to use green, pink and yellow correctly in a sentence.
His response: "The phone rings, 'Green, green.'
I mean, how simple is that? I sidled past the lingerie shop with its racks of long nighties and frilly little numbers and made a beeline for Sussan. There I was confronted with the colours of the season - pink and mint green. Now of all the colours in the world, the ones I can't wear are green, pink and yellow! So although I trawled through all the racks on special, there was nothing in my size that I could wear or even want to wear.
So what is it with pink? Why are we thrust into wearing it - from birth in fact? I guess it suits some people but it's such a helpless, ineffectual colour. I even find it difficult to place in the garden. It's hideous with red or orange or even most blues. It's such a fifties and sixties colour. In fact when we moved to our house at Riverside when I was in my teens, the 40s house was painted out in pink and pale green! Gran had one room repainted and we had one wall in pink, one in primrose and one in aqua. The other wall was polished blackwood cupboards. Eeeyuk!! I guess that's part of the reason for my cringe of pink, and, yes, pale green. It's all tied up in the angst of my adolescence!
But I have a favourite joke:
A man (from the sub-continent?) applies for a job at a call centre. The challenge is to use green, pink and yellow correctly in a sentence.
His response: "The phone rings, 'Green, green.'
I pink it up.
'Yellow?'"
He got the job!
And, yes, the owls are pink!
