As many of my friends will know, I spend a lot of time in a dressing gown.

I fancy it’s Sherlock Holmes-ish but I’m probably just being a bum. Then again, so was he.

When people say things about wearing shirts and ties or Rosie the Riveter-style workwear at home to help them feel fresh or to be productive, I can’t relate to the sentiment at all.

Each to their own, but being able to wear a dressing gown all day is long one of the main advantages of not going to work.

A dressing gown is practically a friend for life. So far as I can remember, I’ve only ever had three:

1. an Aquafresh-striped one when I was a small boy.

2. an appropriately moody black one as a teenager, which was made of lovely pure cotton. It was probably my fave of the three, but as I grew the dressing gown did not. It soon has a Zapp Brannigan effect and had to be replaced for decency’s sake.

3. the one I have now.

The one I have now has big pockets, which means I can carry stuff around. At present, those pockets contain a handkerchief (as it always does), some anti-itch cream (I’m having an eczema time), a pencil, and an iPhone 6s.