Security blanket

The first time I went to India I came back with two woollen shawls from the Himachal Pradesh State Emporium in Delhi. Ten years later, the red one was stolen while I was eating in Pizza Express, and I was heartbroken. But I still have the blue one, and I have given silent (I guess now not so silent) thanks for this many times, and at least three times this week.

1. On the Oxford tube on the way to the conference yesterday. Curling up on buses seems to expose kidneys to icy drafts, and I needed my actual coat for a blanket. So I wrapped my shawl twice round my middle parts and flicked the end up over my shoulder to scrunch into a pillow. Got off the bus and it was a scarf. Ace.

2. Waiting for Ms Y at Upton Park tube last night, I wrapped it around my head and most of my face. Not only keeps out the wind, it's very rare to get hassle if you've got your head covered. As she appeared through the gates it slid off like a hood, magically becoming a scarf again.

3. Just now watching Hard Spell, lying under it on the sofa with it tucked in round my feet. NB I was the best speller, but to be fair the contestants are all about a third of my age and I know more words.

What a garment. I can't wear shawls like Indian women can though, casually draped yet always elegant and never falling off. I try sometimes but mostly I fail, and it's a little humiliating to have your outer garment float into the traffic.

I used to want to be the kind of woman who could wear a scarf when it's not cold (the sort of woman who accessorises, always smells nice and never has visible roots.) I'm still not that woman, but I would happily settle for being one who could carry off a shawl.

joella