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| The last of the funny italian biscuit thingys. |
I have a new favourite jumper. It's big, and sloppy and cosy: it comes down below my bottom -- and the sleeves pull over my hands. It's blue and grey, and I think I've worn it every day for almost a fortnight. Not all day; but at some stage most days (usually the evening when it wouldn't quite do to be in PJs just yet) I wriggle into it and hunker down.
This jumper is, I suppose, something of a blanky; and we know from Charlie Brown the trauma of parting with treasured blankets. This trauma is on the horizon. I must wash my beloved jumper, and fear I will not escape a Linus-like decline while I wait for it to dry.
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