Monday, 7 December 2009

Lemsip and cashmere bedsocks

Today I am ill. I am in bed right now with tissues stuffed up my nose, stealing the neighbour's wifi as ours doesn't transmit as far as the front of the house. Because it is crap.
This post was nearly called snot rags and cashmere bedsocks, which was a bit too disgusting but i found it amusing enough to still want to share with you.
Anyway, I am alone in the house, have run out of episodes of Gossip Girl and Glee and am feeling very sorry for myself.
When I'm this miserable there are a few things I can always rely on to help make me feel a little less morose. Winning the lottery or receiving a pair of Louboutins in the post from a mystery admirer who wanted nothing in return would also work but they are unlikely to happen.
The first, and my most favourite thing in the world, is when JFK calls me little thing and strokes my hair. I have no idea why this is so amazing, it just is. Those two words from him somehow always make anything bad a little bit more bearable.
The second is Lemsip with Manuka honey. Right now the honey I brought back from my trip to visit LMWAI in Berlin is also working.
The third is some good old fashioned Jewish chicken soup, which reminds me of warm cosy feelings and everything good about my north west London childhood and my family.
And the last is cashmere. Glorious, soft, warm, comforting, ridiculously expensive cashmere. I firmly believe that a little bit of luxury is a huge help on the road to recovery.
When it comes to cashmere for the ill, though, the more stylish pieces, the ones you would wear in public, are no good at all. What you really need is a big cashmere scarf that was a gift from someone special or an oversized old cashmere cardigan you've had for ages that won't be ruined when you fall asleep in it sitting half upright on the sofa and drool on it. But if these things are not available to you (I only have one of them and I count myself very lucky as they are both rarer items than they should be), then the ultimate in sick bed luxury is cashmere bedsocks. They keep you warm and you are quite unlikely to get snot or vomit on them. They're not about style or looking good - they're about injecting luxury into the mundane and knowing that however rubbish your face looks, you are still wearing cashmere.
If you have a friend, relative or other who is, like me, in bed feeling sorry for themselves, forget chocolate and grapes, bring them bedsocks. They also work very well for anyone having to endure time in hospital, which is never that nice regardless of whether it is NHS or private or even if you're in there for something life affirming like childbirth.
Here are some of my favourites;

Brora - £45 available in Arctic (poncey name for baby blue, above), oatmeal, rhubarb and winter white.

Catherine Tough, £39, oatmeal and ivory

The White Company, £25, these are especially good if you are feeling worthy as a portion of the ticket price goes to Breakthrough Breast Cancer Charity.
They do some amazing chunky knit ones as well for £50.

And finally these, which aren't cashmere but are by Falke, so we'll allow it just this once.

Falke angora blend, £20 for twin pack via

p.s. Cashmere bed socks are not appropriate as stand alone Christmas gifts, unless you have some kind of weird ironic sock gift tradition in which case if you give anything else you are just cruel.

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