När Filippa kom hem från kompisen så sa hon: Men har du redan pyjamas på dig, mamma?
Jag sa att jag hade haft den på mig hela tiden, då tittade hon på mig lite fundersamt och frågade om man verkligen kan ha det....Jag sa att det är ju så skönt att bara gå i pyjamas och bara slappa.
Varje dag sedan dess så har hon pratat om detta att jag hade pyjamas på mig en hel dag, hon kan tex fråga om jag kommer ihåg när jag hade pyjmas på mig hela dagen...

Imorse när jag gjorde ordning henne för dagis så sa hon: Mamma, vet du. Någon dag när inte jag ska göra någonting, inte leka med någon kompis. Då ska jag ha pyjamas på mig hela dagen!
Jag frågade varför och hon svarade: Jamen, du sa ju att det är så skönt....!

Visst är hon för härlig, min söta dotter?!

At the end of The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas last night, something truly unique in my cinema going experience happened; not a soul moved in the packed theatre. No-one. A big crowd in a big non-Arthouse movie theatre, and they just sat there stunned and silent.

How did we get to that?

Some background, first.

Bruno (Asa Butterfield) is an intense little boy growing up in the city. He has a wonderful house, loving parents, a devoted sister and great pals. When his dad is called away the surroundings he knows and trusts are taken from him and he moves to the country, suddenly thrown into an alien landscape where, after initial hesitancy, he decides that he should embrace the other-worldly and the strange and get on with some exploring.

So far, so Railway Children, but this is nazi Germany, Bruno is leaving Berlin for a house near a Jewish concentration camp (Auschwitz, although it is never explicitly labelled as such) where his father is set to be the Kommandant, and the alien landscape he wants to explore is peppered with viewpoints where he can glimpse 'farmers' wearing striped 'pyjamas' working hard despite being clearly very poorly. There's also an overpowering stench that he doesn't understand, and which his parents don't wish to discuss. On one of his expeditions he finds a boy, Shmuel (Jack Scanlon), sitting behind a barbed wire fence. They talk, and tentatively begin to form a relationship.

There are issues here, and plot holes and improbabilities that some critics have, astonishingly, decided to make a big noise about. Access to the incarcerated seems, not 'easy' exactly, but relatively unquestioned (Shmuel is allowed into Bruno's house at one point to clean the glassware); plus, the fact that all children were executed at Auschwitz within hours of their arrival is never addressed...but bollocks to that, and a big fat razzer to anyone who thinks it's an argument worth following. This, lest we grown-ups forget, is a parable; a brief, succinct story illustrating a moral lesson. Betjeman's quote at the start should be enough: "Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows." So stick your arsey quibbles where they belong, because here we are deservedly being sat down and told something.

It's also been suggested that The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas is a "disneyfication" of the Holocaust, genocide for Junior Schools if you like. Presumably by people who haven't seen it. Well, no it's not, but it is a gateway for discussion perhaps, for more mature kids or teenagers who might be able to relate to Bruno and the learning curve he climbs. For reference, it is a 12A cert in the UK, and so children younger than 12 may see it if accompanied by an adult, but anyone taking 12-and-unders along is crazy, and will be nursing those same kids through nightmares and anxieties for months to come.

There are some sequences in here that will haunt and harry you through your worst moments, and one instant of eye-widening terror - not the word-of-mouth ending, incidentally - that will just rock you back in your comfy seven quid seat. It is no comfort that the cast (David Thewlis and Rupert Friend as the main camp administrators are chilling, emotionally wrecked monsters) is uniformly note-perfect, and the screenplay is wonderfully pitched to inform and appall and terrify in equal measure.

This is that Dark Hour, a moment of very grim reasoning indeed, and to see a promising childhood of sounds and smells and sights run up against it and fall crushed beneath the shadow is truly horrible. An affecting and memorable movie, but not for the faint-hearted.

 Pyjamas are boring!.......well, ok some are but not all - I have a lovely collection of sexy pyjamas that I pull out - and not just in the winter......sometimes it is a good idea to look a little demure.....believe it or not guys find sexy, real sexy but they also find apparently coy and unsexy, sexy too.......I know they are nuts or at least the one I have is.....in a sweet way.

Now if you understood that then you are super intelligent or quite possibly drunk;-)

I have three favourite pyjama brands:

• Le monde d'alba - these pajamas are from a very chic French designer in deepest France
• Elizabeth Cotton - again another popular american pajamas brand which is very chic
• Bedhead - a very popular American brand of pajamas shich have featured on TV and in many magazines

Once I pull myself together I’m meeting friends at Ciao Bella tonight, a little secret of a restaurant in Bloomsbury. Its very cheap for the surberb quality and entertainment you get. Its run by lovely Italians, and on a busy night you can bet there will be a larger than life man sat on a baby grand piano playing tunes. However the place fills up so much he ends of squashed against wall, crouching to play. The atmosphere is lovely and as I was saying you get a meal and wine for about ten pounds. My friends have spotted Rupert Everett there a couple of times, I, myself am not much of a celeb spotter…far too lost in my silly thoughts as a move around town.

The sun is shining this afternoon, and if it keeps it up I shall be going home to my parents because our local fête is taking place tomorrow. Its fantastic, lots of different foods, and honey sellers with bits of bee hives between slates of glass, marmalade with whisky in, ice cream, gospel singers, a collection of goats and pygmy horses and well as a sheep dog show and terrier racing! The terrier racing is my favourite bit, they have a fluffy toy squirrel on a remote control car which they wiz around and the dogs chase, racing. Then after a while as the crowd starts losing enthusiasm, they throw children in and make them race! Its brilliant fun.

Also folks remember its open house weekend this weekend, so get out there and see beautiful architecture, inside and out (many places you usually have to pay or have a special appointment)…especially with weather like this.

Otherwise if you fancy shopping instead, pick up this months glamour for a 20% discount off Uniqlo-finish off your autumn wardrobe! The offer lasts until the end of September.

'There are,' I said, 'things you can explain much better than me.'

'Maybe,' said Holly, 'but you'll have to see Cheryl on your own. Dont worry - I'll be thinking of you.'

Her mouth was set, making it clear that argument was useless. I shrugged my shoulders and set off up the street, leaving Holly sitting alone in her Mercedes. As there were no lights on inside the Saunders' house I assumed the occupants were all in their beds. Nevertheless, I gritted my teeth and rang the bell. There was no answer, so I rang again. A light clicked on upstairs, but it was ages before Cheryl Saunders opened the door. She had a green dressing gown wrapped around her body and pink, fluffy slippers on her feet.

'Good heavens! It's you, Mr O'Brien! What do you want now? Have you any idea what time it is?'

I glanced at my watch. 'Half past one.'

It was then that she noticed my hands.

'What's happened to you?' she gasped. 'You're in a terrible state.'

'Am I?' I looked down at myself in the light. 'Yes, I suppose I am. Sorry.'

A man's voice drifted down from above.

'Who is it, Cheryl?'

'That blasted security consultant again,' she called, 'but don't worry, he's going.'

'Ah,' I said, 'I'm afraid that I can't - not yet, anyway. I'd love to, of course, as I desperately need a bath and I want my bed, too, but first I have to warn you of the danger both you and Richard are in.'

'Danger?' Her face became tense and drawn. 'What danger?'

I held up my hands.

'As you can obviously see, I've just climbed the Twyford Gap to avoid being beaten up by a gang with baseball bats who ran my car off the M3.'

'What gang?'

I sighed. 'I've no idea. All I know is that they want to find out where Richard is.'

'Why?'

'They want some information about his work. You know he works in the defence industry?'

'Yes.'

'Well, it may have something to do with that. That's all I know, Mrs Saunders, except that I think you should be ready in case they try to find out Richard's whereabouts from you.'

She winced.

'Come inside, Mr O'Brien,' she said, pulling me into the house and closing the front door.

'I don't want to worry you,' I said.

'Shut up!' snapped the woman. She hurried to the foot of the stairs and called up. 'Pete! Come down here a minute!'

In a few moments he was with us, bare-foot and dressed in pale blue pyjamas. He looked from me to his wife.

'What's wrong with him?'

'Been attacked by a gang, Pete.'

He turned to me. 'Don't tell us, mate. Go to the police.'

'I may very well have to, Mr Saunders, but the reason I'm here now is to warn you that this gang could come visiting you.'

'We've got nothing to worry about,' he said, looking extremely worried indeed.

'They want some information which Mrs Saunders has,' I pointed out.

'Cheryl hasn't done anything wrong. The law will protect her.'

'No, Pete,' said his wife. 'We mustn't involve the police.'

'Why not? That's what they're there for.'

'Richard wouldn't like it. Before he went away, he told me that he was trying to find some peace and quiet. All he wants is to be left alone.'

'Besides,' I said, 'if it got to that stage, it would already be too late.'
Mr Saunders frowned and chewed his lip furiously.

'Obviously,' he said, 'it's no use asking you to protect Cheryl if you can't lo0ok after yourself.'

'I can protect both Cheryl and her brother perfectly adequately- if only she'll let me.'

'How?' demanded Mrs Saunders.

'Firstly-'

'Don't listen to him,' interrupted her husband. 'It's a waste of time. Get rid of the guy and go back to bed.'

'No, Pete. He might have something useful to say.' Mrs Saunders turned to me. 'Go on, Mr O'Brien. What's your idea?'

'Firstly,' I said, 'you must let me have Richard's address. I'll get in touch with him and persuade him to hide somewhere that you don't know.'

'How will that help?' She didn't look convinced.

'Then - and only then - once Richard is safely out of the way, you're free to go to the police and explain the whole situation to them. Any action that they might take would leave Richard unaffected - just as he wishes. Also, you would no longer have the information that the gang wants, so they shouldn't be interested in you. What do you think?'

She brooded over the idea for a while, then shook her head sadly. 'Sorry, I'm afraid it's not possible.'

'That's right. You tell him,' said her husband. Then doubt appeared to enter his mind. 'Are you sure you're doing the right thing?'

She turned to him and patted his shoulder.

'Quite sure. You go back to bed, Pete, and I'll be there in a minute. I just want to see Mr O'Brien out first. Okay?'

He yawned.

'Okay, Cheryl. Don't be long.'

'I won't.'

She watched her husband plod slowly up the stairs. Then, once he was out of sight, she seized me by the sleeve and dragged me into the lounge.

'Funny weather we've been having,' she said, somewhat louder than was necessary. I suspected it was for Pete's benefit.

'Have we?'

'Yes,' she said, leaving me in the middle of the room. She strode to the mantelpiece and dipped her hand into a red vase, about twenty centimetres tall. 'It went so dark this morning, I thought we were going to have snow.'

'Did you, Mrs Saunders?'

'Yes, I did.'

She pulled out a small bundle and pressed it in the palm of my hand. I glanced at it. A sheet of blue notepaper had been folded into a neat square. I pushed it into my pocket.

'But then the clouds passed over,' she said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing gown, 'and the sun came out again. You can never tell what the weather's going to do, can you, Mr O'Brien?'

'No,' I said, 'I suppose you can't.'

'Don't forget,' she said, hustling me towards the front door and pushing me out into the road, 'tell everyone you meet that I don't know where Richard is.'

'Alright.'

She pursued me for a few yards and put her mouth to my ear.

'Make him go somewhere else,' she whispered. 'Don't tell me where it is, but please let me know when he's safe.'

I nodded silently, turned away and strolled down the street to where Holly sat waiting. The night was clear now. More stars than I'd ever noticed before glittered in the purple sky. Behind me, a door slammed shut. Holly stuck her head out of the Mercedes' window.

'Matt!' she hissed. 'How did it go?'

'Okay,' I said, trying hard to remain calm.

'Get in!' She opened the passenger door and I climbed in beside her. 'Well?'

'She gave me this,' I said, taking the folded notepaper out of my pocket.

Holly snatched it from my hand, switched on the car's interior lamp and held the paper to the light

'What does it say?' I asked.
Holly gasped. I leaned across her and read:

RICHARD FOSTER
C/O THE YOUTH HOSTEL
GRINDLOW MILL
GRINDLOW
BUXTON
DERBYSHIRE

'Buxton?' she muttered. 'Why's he gone to Buxton?'

'I don't know.'

She turned to me. 'How soon can you get there?'

I scratched my head.

'Well, there's a bit of a problem about that. You've seen what's happened to the Golf, Holly. The insurance people are going to give me a replacement, but I don't know when.'

Holly's eyes flashed in the lamplight.

'Don't wait for them, Matt. Take this.'

I stared at her. 'What? Your lovely SLK?'

'Yes, it's the logical thing.'

'Now?'

'Of course.' She opened her door, hopped out and ran round to the other side. 'Slide over, Matt. Start her up and drive me home to Harefield. I'll show you the controls on the way. You can drop me off at the bungalow, then take the car home with you. That way you'll be able to drive up to Derbyshire first thing in the morning.'

'But it's already first thing in the morning, Holly.'

'When you wake up, then.'

'How will you get to work on Monday?'

'Oh, someone will give me a lift. And, once I'm there, I'll have the use of the pool cars. There's always a little white Fiat left behind that nobody seems to want.'

'Okay,' I said. 'If you're quite sure ....'

So, somewhat nervously, I did as instructed.

Am aflat întâmplător despre o carte de la RAO: Băiatul cu pijamale în dungi, de John Boyne.
Descrierea m-a impresionat, dar nu cine ştie ce. Însă după ce am aflat că prima versiune a acestei cărţi a fost scrisă în 3 zile, mi-am spus să caut mai multe despre ea.
Am aflat că este o carte foarte frumoasă, despre un băiat, Bruno, care încearcă să descopere ce se întâmplă în jurul său, mai precis în Auschwitz, în timpul celui de al Doilea Război Mondial.
Aici descrierea:
Aceasta este povestea unui băieţel german pe nume Bruno, al cărui tată a primit o slujbă foarte importantă, ceea ce înseamnă că toată familia trebuie să se mute departe de oraş, într-un loc ciudat, unde casa lor e singura locuinţă adevărată şi unde în spatele unor garduri nesfârşite se află sute, poate mii de oameni îmbrăcaţi în pijamale în dungi.

Bruno se străduieşte să înţeleagă ce se întâmplă în jurul său. Cititorul bănuieşte despre ce e vorba, dar bietul Bruno, nu. Porneşte aşadar să exploreze împrejurimile şi zăreşte un punct, care devine o pată şi o pată care devine un băiat…

Scrisă într-un limbaj simplu, copilăresc, această carte este mult mai mult decât o poveste pentru copii. Cititorul se va teme de momentul în care Bruno îşi va pierde inocenţa copilăriei şi va începe să întrezărească adevărul, dar poate ca lucrurile vor evolua şi mai rău şi el nu va descoperi deloc adevărul.

John Boyne este un scriitor irlandez, născut la Dublin în 1971. A scris nenumărate cărţi şi povestiri pentru copii. Cartea sa Băiatul cu pijamale în dungi s-a vândut în lumea întreagă în peste 2,5 milioane de exemplare, a fost ecranizată de curând de Miramax.
Întradevăr, după ce am văzut trailerul filmului, pe care îl puteţi vedea şi voi aici, m-am decis că e o carte care merită toată atenţia. Am comandat-o de pe site-ul editurii RAO, iar preţul este foarte mic: doar 16 RON. Sper să ajungă cât mai repede. Mor de nerăbdare să o citesc.
Sper că vouă, cititorilor de fantasy, v-am deschis apetitul pentru această carte.

Är bara så trött idag och kommer förmodeligen gå klädd i pyjamas hela dagen... snyggt klädval, eller hur?

P.S. Det är inte jag på bilden.

Hey there bloggers!

Here comes the latest top product from pinkmarzipan!

The true path to elegance lies in these pyjamas. They look so absolutely stunning that you will want to wear them to go out. But be careful, people may frown upon that.

These luscious pop ‘n’ pink pyjamas come either as a top and trousers set, or a beautiful chemise. Made from loose material to give you a light and graceful feeling.

So check out this Blue & Silver Pop ‘n’ Pink PJ set now. The pyjamas are only £30 and the Chemise is £32. So go go go!
If you’re not a fan of blue, you must be mad, but you can check out our other pyjamas, they’re all so stylish!

So get on down to www.pinkmarzipan.com and get yourself some hot new nightwear today!

syns jag visst i den senaste IKEA-reklamen som visas både på nätet och på TV!   :)

-Boyfriend came through and bought me diamond earrings! Speaking of size, they are the kind of stones that might fall off whilst polishing someone’s engagement ring- you need to squint to see them, (they remind me of the ones in with the cogs of my grandfather’s pocket watch), but boy was I chuffed! Absolutely means the world to me that even though he’s a poor student, he was determined to spoil me for my birthday.

-I got incredibly drunk as you might imagine...picked an old man pub as a venue...we could buy cheap drinks, sit down and actually hear each other speak...but I managed to insist that the whole pub sang me happy birthday, then shushed them to make a speech (yes I’m cringing remembering it) and then toppled over in my stilettos just as I had their attention. Great.

However it was still fantastic, so many friends showed up, old and new, I was quite emotional and enjoyed every last bit of it.

Going to see Gigi tonight at the open air theatre in Regents park, I’m prepared to freeze to death, going to wrap up warm and enjoy the free tickets! Tomorrow I’ll be back to my autumn snuggle routine, bring on the return of hot water bottle evenings...I’m waiting for the return of Lost In Austin this Wednesday, got my lavender bath bubbles and cosy pyjamas ready!

Reading the Sunday times Style yesterday I’ve been inspired to do my own going up and going down list, so bear with me, this may be a regular feature:

Going up

Cowshed 'lazy cow soothing candles'

I was incredibly grateful for this present, the kind of candles that are too lovely to burn..but I chilled out so much last in such decadence and slept like a baby (once I blew them out!)

Beautiful thank you cards

India Knight (writing goddess) has praised stationary in this week's style magazine and rightly so, I was drowling over the selection at Liberty...I have many to write! However with price tags as out of this world as the cards are looks like I'm going to be making mine...

Student Salons

Much like getting a free hair cut at Tony & Guy, in the heart of London get a whole range of beauty treatments at rock bottom price, with a pedicure at £10...shhhh!

http://www.lond-est.com/student_salon/

S'nob dresses

Loving the cuts and colours...Saw me through my birthday weekend

Innocent Smoothies (kid size)

Stops me drinking a whole carton and then enduring the healthiest of guilt trips when I read the calories on the back...(pomegranates, blueberries & Blackcurrants)

Autumn colours

Bring them on..! Stops the dizzing effect of summer colours by anchoring them with substance

Ornamental birds (for the home)

Goes with the whole 'frozen summer' feel of autumn with a touch of the macabre

Wine-ish purple nail varnish
Navy blue was big this summer, so why not influence your rogue noir with hints of blue-savy  I was wearing it to go with new dress, (my general rule for daytime nails otherwise is darker as you get older, as you need have demure and respectable on your side to pull off such daring colours)

Going Down

Kate Perry

Over-rated with a song written for Britney? Yuck. And whichever way you lean regarding religion, sex and politics, keep it to yourself..

Plimsoles

....Joining the decline of leggings

To end, object of lust:

These 'Pretty Ballerina' flats as seen in style....

The most important ingredient is ... you guessed it ... getting into your pyjamas. Usually at night, but meetings can be called at any time of day according to mood and weather.

But I digress. My first session consisted of me learning the following:

• How to make my bed properly. Turn down the duvet cover just so. Then plump up the pillow. Twice. And then smooth it down.
• The correct way to jump into bed. Go to the doorway, take a flying leap and hurl yourself into the bed with your feet under the covers. Pull up the cover in one smooth movement. Oh / and make sure you do not bump your head on the wall. Me practising this move was ... apparently ... hilarious to the cousins and daughter.

In the second session, I received a massage. Yes, a massage. And I learnt how to breathe in and out deeply. This was called: How to relax before going to bed. (The relaxing effect was somewhat diluted by the jumping into bed technique that followed it.)

The best bit was lying on the mattresses on the floor in between daughter and biggest cousin and being hugged from both sides. There is no better remedy for a cold, stormy summer night.

Nei. Jeg har ikke sniffet lykkepiller.

Bonden i storbyen har tatt inn i blokkleilighet. Jeg føler meg overvåket. Uansett hvor jeg befinner meg, kan jeg se titalls vinduer, og mine logiske beregninger sier meg at disse vinduene også har utsikt til mine vinduer. Jeg har ikke fått meg gardiner i stua enda, og føler at folk ser inn til meg konstant. Selv om det sansynligvis er hundre prosent motsatt; jeg er den eneste som stirrer ut mot mine ukjente naboers privatliv, og sjekker dagens TV-underholdning. Selv har jeg TV-benk, dvd-spiller og GET startpakke, men ingen TV, så de glor nok ikke tilbake. Det eneste jeg kan by på er meg selv som står på tå i vinduskarmen i pyjamas og maler veggene oransje. Da er nok Hotel Cæsar mer sofistikert.

[caption id="attachment_15" align="alignleft" width="240" caption="Le Monde d"][/caption]

Pyjamas can be utterly boring or, like wearing a guys shirt, they can make you feel cosy, happy and totally sexy to a guy......

I love nothing better than surprising my boyfriend with some new lingerie or a sexy corset - but it is always sweet on a dark winters night to appear in a pair of designer pyjamas and watch his face break into a naughty smile..... and if you feel like it why not get him some new mens underwear like the risque Ginch Gonch

My favourite designer brands are:

• Bedhead
• Le Monde d'Alba
• Elizabeth Cotton
• Undrest
• Janet Reger

So this winter go and shock your hunk with some really sexy designer pajamas.

Nej de har inte tid att gå och lägga sig. O är i full fart med att måla och E busar med alla och envar. Efter mycket tjat och prat dyker de båda raringarna upp iklädda respektive pyjamas. O lägger sig och bläddrar i en bok medan jag föreslår åt E att vi kan ju prata .Så att hon kanske för en gångs skulle hann berätta allt INNAN hon ska sova, för vanliga kvällar är jag ju hos henne och lyssnar på "viktiga" saker stup i kvarten.

Jag föreslår att vi ska sitta i soffan och prata. "Ja men det vill ju inte jag!" meddelar hon bestämt, för hon har hittat ett spel som hon tycker att vi ska spela. Jag anser inte det. Hon tjurar en stund och hävdar fortfarande att hon varken vill prata eller gosa.

Då kommer O, han har läst färdigt. "Men mamma jag vill sitta och prata!" säger han och plötsligt har jag två barn tätt, tätt intill mig. Då duger jag - även för fröken E. Och jag får höra sanna, otroliga och några påhittade historier från deras dag.

Jag struntar i att berätta något om min dag. E har precis insett att jag faktiskt gör nästan samma saker varje dag. "Varför gör du alltid samma saker på jobbet?" Ja, vad säger man...? That's life!

Awww j'adore Jacko, mais là les culottes de pyjama ça commence a être overrated dans son cas. Anywhoo, cliquez ici si vous voulez voir de quoi Mickey aurait l'air aujourd'hui si y s'était pas fait refaire la face 72 fois (pis j'pense que j'exagère même pas avec le chiffre).

Vidare var jag nyss och köpte solroskärnor (jättesmaskigt tilltugg) men jag fick en obehagligt överraskning när jag stoppade dem i munnen. Saltade solroskärnor! Usch, nej. Ingen höjdare. Funderar allvarligt på att slänga påsen...

Och sist så visar det sig att det återigen lär bli en lång natt. Pyjamastema på STUK ikvälll/natt för nollorna. Jag lär inte vara där, men det lär däremot han jag delar lägenhet med. Hans pyjamas hade dock inte så mycket vettiga fickor, så han undrade om jag skulle vara uppe sent igen så att han slapp ta med sig nyckeln. Det skulle jag troligen varit i vilket fall, men nu känns det nästan som ett tvång :D Jag kan förvisso gå och lägga mig och sedan låsa upp när han plingar på dörren, men det känns värre att väckas än att hålla sig vaken.

Nu ska jag läsa Tess och inte äta solroskärnor.

- Quiquid latine dictum sit altum viditur.

Did you know that Bingo has helped people stop smoking? Well, in ‘the old days’ you were able to smoke in the bingo halls, and now you can’t . You have to go outside!! And the Bingo has to stop whilst people have a smoke, so according to some – it’s actually helped some people to stop smoking!

As for the rest, they probably hooked up with an online Bingo hall and carried on puffing away at home. Easier that way, and you can wear your pyjamas if you like! (I know some of those people at the halls looked like they were already wearing their pyjamas, but no-one says you have to have fashion sense to play bingo!)

Have a great weekend – and think about giving up – smoking that is, not Bingo!!!

"Ah, not exactly what I had in mind" he said.

But, why not, I pondered? Flannelette pyjamas are a gift from the gods.
They truly are the perfect attire. Soft fabric, loose and comfortable with an elasticated waist for bloated chocolate belly, and a pocket on the front to hold tissues during an especially moving rom com. And they are fire retardant.

There is something extremely comforting about pulling on your old flannies and curling up on the couch. But most girls wont don the daggy duds in the presence of male company. Most girls, except my friend "Jan".

Jan lives in her flannel pyjamas. If she had her way she would wear them day and night- to bed, to work, on public transport, even on a hot date. How can she bear to let a prospective partner see her in her $12.99 Target PJs?

"Its a test" Jan remarks. "If they can find me attractive in my oldest, holiest pair of pyjamas, they are a keeper."
And maybe she is right. But how soon do you let the flannel cat out of the bag?

I have gone months in scratchy lace affairs from Victoria's Secret before revealing my secret identity. You see, I too am a flannel warrior.

Every night, at eight i turn into flannel girl, ruler of the couch. And heres a little secret, boys: in homes around the nation the same daggy transformation is taking place. There is a covert and a very comfortable army of us out there.

Our fearless leader, Jan, ran into a satin and lace loving roadblock a little while ago with a man who had an anaphylactic shock at the mere sight of her flannel ensemble. So much so, that when the pair went for a romantic weekend away, he raided her bags and hid her trusty PJ's in the hotel safe.

She spent the next three days freezing her baked butt in bed, flabbergasted that she could have forgotten to pack her old faithfuls, until he finally came clean. Needless to say, Jan failed to see the funny side.

I once had a boyfriend who thought there was nothing sexier than my baggy old jimmy jams. In fact, he would request I put them on at bedtime. His reasoning was it was exciting to see me dressed down, like noone else got to. No make up, no high heels, just the real me.

I guess the things we find sexy change as a relationship progresses. Once it was the smell of their aftershave that was a turn on. Now its three day growth and hair that hasnt been combed for a week. Well, maybe not.

But it can be nice to strip back all the pretences and discover the everyday truth about someone.

So, to the boys, I say, when you go to bed tonight, ebrace the flannel. Let the soft cotton love spread over your lives and remember that inside every girl is a flannel warrior desperate to get out.

Ms. Fabulous

YESTERDAY WAS ONE EXCITING DAY!!!

The highlight of the day was wearing pyjamas ! <3

Sub-highlight : I got a dent on my head 'cos of one signboard.. I was walking and I accidentally hit my head against the edge of a signboard. No, it wasn't painful! At night, my mom stood behind my chair to see what I was doing and asked me how come there's dried blood on my head.. Haha! I'm scared of blood in such areas ): I'm so sorry head, I've mistreated you time and again ): You've met many hard surfaces ): Have you fallen for any of them? ):

I AM EXTREMELY CLUMSY AND ACCIDENT-PRONE IF YOU HAVEN'T REALIZED..