I've long dreamt of 'doing an Anne McCaffrey', meaning moving to Ireland, living in a castle, being a best-selling writer and having a stable full of horses, but now I've found another reason for heading to the Emerald Isle. Pyjamas!
In the newspaper on the way home, I read how a Dublin dole office has banned pyjama wearing by social welfare recipients and job seekers. This opened up a whole new world of possibilities for me because apparently pyjamas are common attire in inner-city Dublin. For people with no strong opinions about PJs, this fact might be of little interest. But me, I'm a jim-jam lover who would wear my jammies on the train, and all the way to and all day at the Arvo Job and then home again if I could get away with it. One of the best things about writing, I've always thought, is that you can sit as snug as a bug in a rug at home at your desk, comfortable beyond the dreams of mortal man, woman and child, and compose flights of fantasy in your beloved pyjamas. Jim-jams, I believe, put you in the writing zone almost as much as a purring cat on your lap does.
Okay, I know where the dole office is coming from, I really do, presentation, image, grooming and making a good impression being important and all of that, buuuut there's a part of me that also thinks the world would be a happier and more relaxed and creative and egalitarian place if more people wore their pyjamas whilst out and about on their daily business.
Hmmm, on the other hand, people being what they are, that just sounds like the foundation for a different kind of sartorial dogma.