coconut bread

You’ve got to know where your towel is.

Towels are important, in life.

“A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value – you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-to- hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you – daft as a bush, but very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have “lost”. What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.”

From The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams.

The most ridiculous thing happened to me last week, which is why I now need a towel around my neck at all times. My alarm went off at 6.30 am (yes, it’s a ridiculous hour of the morning. I’m experimenting with running. It was going well, until) I went to turn it off and somehow injured my neck.

good pyjamas = good sleep

“GOOD PYJAMAS : GOOD SLEEP” so goes the old saying, yet many people donot understand the vital significance of pyjamas in the achievement ofdeep and restful sleep.

SLEEPING IS A RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY: a holy communion with the inner worldof dreams and darkness. The appropriate ceremonial attire is importantfor a smooth passage into the land of nod.

ESSENTIALLY, pyjamas must FEEL COMFORTABLE and LOOK RIDICULOUS. Wearingthem is a ritualistic renunciation of the concious, external world: theworld of looking good and feeling stressed.

As we approach the cot, pyjama clad, the LUDICROUS SELF is proclaimed,triumphant and free. The vestments of the outer world lie cast off andcrumpled on the floor.

We look soft and child-like; inept and shambling; primitive and funny.The pyjama fabric droops like tired old elephant skin. The buttons aredone up in the wrong holes. The trousers are hitched up nearly to thearmpits. The cuffs wag above the ankles.

One side of the coat is tucked in, the other side hangs out. We have noplace in the “real” world looking like this! WE ARE THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF. What freedom! What peace! What blessed relief!

“GOOD PYJAMAS : GOOD SLEEP”
Michael Leunig

*I am sorry for the lazy post but I am so out of it today my thoughts are not worthy of attention. So, read someone else’s very worthy philosophies about sleep and pyjamas instead. Hopefully I will be more optimistic tomorrow. Adieu.