Sad times at Redfern. My favourite, favourite top is ready for the rag bag.
I got this tshirt in 2011 in Benasque, a gorgeous village in the Pyranees. At the time I bought it, I was feeling the most enormous sense of liberation and discovery. My husband and I were travelling for three months, stopping long enough to do decent walks, before rolling on again towards our next favourite new place.
Since then, I've worn that tshirt at least 4-times a week, packing it for every overnight trip. As well as travelling through Europe, it's been to Hawaii, the Pacific Islands, Brisbane, Melbourne, Hobart and Adelaide as well as any number of places within NSW.
It was my 'jeans and tshirt' tshirt, before gradually slipping to my 'doing the groceries' tshirt, then 'exercising and gardening' tshirt. It's final (sweet) indignity being that its what I wear to bed when my husband's not around.
A few months ago, I turned down its wash cycle from 'mixed load' to 'delicate' - sadly, holes began to emerge, large enough for me to poke my fingers through.
Over the years there's been a few clothing items I've bonded with, and the idea of dropping them into a recycling bin is anathema. Most recently, I left my 15yo hiking boots on the Glyndwr's Way; a decent farewell. However, I'm ashamed to admit there's been times I've left freshly washed but exhausted favourite clothing in a hotel room so I wouldn't have to deal with their disposal.
I've now decided it would be fitting and perfect to turn my old tshirt into stake ties for the garden. But before I say goodbye, I've written an ode to honour its decent, practical service.
Haiku to an old faithful ...
Been there and done it
My eyes, heart and mind opened
In my grey tshirt