Long summers in New Jersey, I slept alone in my room which used to be the attic before my baby sister arrived. It was hot in the summer but I never minded sleeping up there, I loved it because I was alone. The box fan was cranking in the window, pulling the air from downstairs, cooling the entire house, my room was the last to get respite from the summer days. When the temperature dropped in the night, for those few hours, peace would come, even a chill. I'd wrap myself around and around in my cotton cellular blanket, to protect from the cold in the warm. A soft blanket made of such a loose weave it is essentially 1000s of holes. When I turned 12 I somehow begged for a small black and white television. I remember being cosy late at night swaddled in my cotton cellular blanket. Snuggled while tuned in to late night PBS alone with a petite, ""I, Claudius"" on the TV for what I imagined was all night long, it was probably 9pm for an hour, maybe 2. That 1976 BBC Television adaptation of Robert Graves' 1934 novel starring Derek Jacobi was the beginning of something which has never ended for me. Here is to history. Our blanket is produced by a mill in Manchester.