Man Overboard: I've really lost my thread

Dec 31 2009 Richard Irvine

AS I WALK through the snow-covered streets (artistic licence prevails here) past the hordes of people crowded inside shops, searching through the bargains, I fear we’ve lost the true meaning of Christmas – the thread count of Egyptian cotton sheets.

I can’t name a date when the thread count of sheets started to become something else the modern consumer was forced to worry about but literature points to a date sometime in July, 2003, although it’s a world I’ve only recently discovered in my personal quest for the perfect bedding.

In fact, social theorists have argued that a nation can only ever be truly developed when people openly discuss the thread count on their bedding as a means to assert their own status in society.

“I bought some Egyptian cotton sheets the other day,” says Felicity.

“OOOOhh, what’s the thread count,” says Ann.

“1,000, there’s no point getting any less, it’d be like sleeping on Astroturf,” says Felicity.

“Made of money”, thinks Ann to herself.

A perfect example of how Felicity has managed to convey to Ann how money matters not when considering your choice of bedding.

Unfortunately, Ann is now forced to track down sheets with a thread count of 1,000 or more in order to “beat” Felicity back into submission.

On the other end of the social spectrum is the Slanket, a large fleecy blanket with sleeves for your arms, so you can lay under it on the sofa yet still carry out essential tasks such as operating the remote control, eating crisps or scratching.

My girlfriend wanted one of these for Christmas yet I refused to bow to the pressure, as I can’t think of a more pitiful sight than a healthy young woman hidden under a blanket, covered with crisps watching Coronation Street.