Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

In the pink

Kids_169

Last night I woke up at 3am absolutely freezing.  After fidgeting around trying to get warm for 10 or 15 minutes I got up and fished out my ancient dressing gown - fondly known in the family as my pinkie - and went back to bed wearing it and nodded off right away.

I’ve had my pinkie for 32 years and it’s still going strong.  My mum bought it for me the Christmas I was expecting our Rachel and it has seen me through 31 winters. My daughters have grown up with it and I’ve snuggled all my grandchildren in it when they were tiny.

It’s practically a rag now but it was the most beautiful present my mother ever gave me. It’s made of the softest wool, knitted like the finest baby shawl. When it was new it had swansdown around the neck and cuffs, with satin buttons down the front.  The material was so fine it floated when I walked but it was as warm as toast.

It's outlived several dressing gowns - now and again someone will buy me a new one for Christmas. At the moment I have a faux fur leopard print one with a hood, it's lovely and soft and warm but it's not a pinkie.

My pinkie must be three sizes too small for me now, but I can just about squash myself into it if I leave the buttons undone.

Every spring I know I should part with my pinkie but I can’t bring myself to do it, it reminds me of my mum. And every time I’m feeling sorry for myself, whether I’m upset, poorly or just feeling down, it’s such a comfort to wear.

I almost gave it to charity once.  I washed it, ironed it, and changed my mind when I decided to re-invent it - unpicking the swansdown that had started looking like road-kill, and replacing it with braid and satin ribbon.

By the time I added new buttons and a bits and bobs, it was back in my bedside cabinet ready for such emergencies as nursing a cold, sulking or freezing cold nights.

It’s going to be freezing again tonight but with my feet on The Grump and my pinkie wrapped around me, I’ll be as warm as toast.