There are days when I walk under the stars, taking the dogs out for a final stretch, when the plough shines strongly and I’m wearing my woollen camel shawl called the Itch. There are days, when I’m sporting hand/blocked pyjamas and the Itch, I look up at our stars, and I’m transported back to Rajasthan at the camel fair in Nagaur, or having lunch with our camel herding friends, or at the tented camp in Pushkar. The Itch transports me to rural India and I feel no longer bound by English charts or Bosham shores. Sometimes I feel I must be the only girl in West Sussex with a Rajasthani woven wool shawl from the spare fur of baby camels, hand block-printed pj’s, and her heart in India.