Atishoo

Don't you just hate getting that cold.....you know the one that's gone round the family, or office, the golf club or......the one that person sitting next to you on the tube or subway, bus, air-bus or coffee bar?

The summer cold, and you're feeling dreadful when everyone else is feeling sublimely carefree, jolly, nicely toasty...and your head is splitting open, your eyes are red and sore, and you can't stop coughing!!

Or the Christmas cold you get on Christmas Eve morning; your feeling even more terrible than you've ever felt before, and all the family are bubbling over with Father Christmas excitement.

So there you are, coughing and sneezing, alternately blowing your nose, which is running, sore and becoming redder by the minute; then choking and hacking away because talking and, heaven forbid, laughing, because that just makes you cough even more and harder still.

And what do you need most of all at this tragic period in your life, well for goodness sake, a handkerchief or paper tissue.  The handkerchief must be very large and soft and the paper tissue should be softly and balmly luxurious.  Now perhaps some might say, at this point, tissues are most definitely better than handkerchiefs, for mopping that poor little nose and your fevered brow and even I might just agree.

But I like handkerchiefs, particularly of the  older design and fabric style - good, stout cotton that's been boiled and washed so  many times, the fabric is now so soft and supple, it almost wraps itself about your nose, to cope with the problem.  Even the softest of tissues can't quite exactly do that for you and, should you have been so careless as to run out of your favourite balm-drenched tissue and, to hand, have only the thinnest and cheapest of scratchy, unyielding, dry-as-bone tissue, then heaven help you!

So, OK lets talk handkerchiefs; the pretty ones this time.  The fine lawn, lace-edged ones, the hand-rolled edged ones, in the finest cotton lawn, initials a-flutter in one corner.  The silken handkerchiefs sported by the chaps in their suit breast-pocket for adornment and comfort, or even for the mopping up of tears.  The pretty cotton ones, ablaze with flowers and knots, comic characters, and all edged with colourful thread, tiny and just right for the little ones, who twist them about their fingers, chew the corners of and often stuff them into their gym knickers, those dark blue or olive green school PE kit issue, we girls have to wear for school-day exercising lessons.  You surely must remember those, didn't we all hate wearing them?

I do so love my handkerchiefs and especially the the beautiful lace and scallop edged, hand made and far-away holiday island ones, my daughter brought home for me which, of course, are never used but always with me in my tiny purse, when dressed in my party clothes.  I even love the daily handkerchief, simply decorated, just large enough and oh so useful.  Somehow, even the chore of laundry and pressing doesn't detract from their personal charm; and they are so much easier to locate when you're dashing out to keep an appointment, beautifully folded and longing to be taken with you.

Now tissues, even the prettiest ones, those that come in neat cling-filmed packets, or held neatly captive in a smart fabric pocket, are quite the same; and those you whisk out of a larger box, how do you cope with those, hey?  Fold them into an untidy-tidy wedge before thrusting them deep into your handbag or coat pocket; so ungainly, bulky and awkward.

Well I guess tissues have their fans and handkerchiefs certainly do.  Why I have a very dear girlfriend who positively treasures her array of beautiful handkerchiefs, those exquisite ones she saves up to buy, or has them from her kith and kin for special occasions or birthdays; she would never speak against the noble handkerchief, or even the humblest one.

Dear ones look at me askance when I flourish a handkerchief, positively shuddering with disgust, at the handkerchief clutched in my hand, in a pocket, or spilling out of my handbag.  But there it is, I do love a handkerchief and, even though I've tried hard not to, and use tissues instead, even the nasty, scratchy kind which come in a large box and have to be folded and creased into a little heap, or stuffed into a coat pocket, before you walk through your front door.  For me there is no contest.

The handkerchief remains supreme, for isn't it  hateful, finding those scrumpled-up balls of used tissue in a discarded coat pocket or handbag?

Long live the handkerchief and bless me - atishoo!

Toodle oo - Daisy