The Pyjama Game

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Not the musical – the time of year.

The time when you shed the winter woollen pyjamas with the long legs and sleeves and find something less heating for summer. The time of muslins and gauze and cotton and nothing at all. Not for the faint of heart…

The time when we put away the blankets for another year…all the while wondering how long the poor old things are going to last. I mean, how long are they supposed to go for? We still have double bed blankets that we had when we were married in 1972 an apart from the odd stain where the cat expressed its opinion of the Democratic Party, they are still as good as new. At least my side is – it is regularly whisked off from me in the middle of the night when the wife rolls over and it therefore gets very little actual use. Sometimes I suspect that she is not asleep when this occurs…

We have never succeeded with European doonas and duvets and quilts and whatever – they always seem to run off the sides of the bed and settle down near the floor – we might as well be sleeping under another sheet for all the warmth they give. The electric blanket is a comfort under the sheet when you first get in but then you switch it off and from there on there is nothing between you and Mawson’s hut but metabolism and the cat. Even the cat is no comfort on really cold nights – acting as somewhat of a rat-breathed heat sink.

I welcome the advance of summer – we have a fan above the bed for middle temperatures and an air conditioner for high ones. I can lie there in the dark as naked as a jaybird and no-one looks. At least I think no-one looks. I think I am going to have to get a small blindfold for the cat…

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