M uch like climbing into a bed made up with freshly laundered and folded sheets -- The beds my maternal grandmother (a southern transplant) had waiting for us when we visited as children were unequaled. -- there is nothing quite like slipping on a pair of fresh (or in this case new) pajamas. The example above was given to me recently by the Grand Duchess and Young Master for Father's Day a week ago, but I delayed wearing them until this morning. Soft, airy, and pleasing to the eye. Perfect for Sunday morning coffee on a quiet, sunny summer's day. Petite Plume for those interested. The name is unfortunate, and clearly geared toward the ladies' items sold by the company, but they also sell some very nice sleepwear for men. As does Cordings . -- Heinz-Ulrich
V arious old friends reappear for this calm first day of Summer 2026 (on this side of the equator). You can just about make out the ear of Lord Onyx, out old neutered tomcat, who loves to sit for hours purring on the back of my desk chair with a paw or his head resting on my left shoulder. I suppose this is a holdover from when he was a kitten, and it took him six weeks to warm up following adoption from the animal shelter. He spent most of that time petrified and looking fearful in my lap with his sister, who was the complete opposite. Gunnlaug warmed up immediately and purred as soon as we met them for the first time at the shelter. Well, we couldn't just adopt the one cat, could we? -- Heinz-Ulrich