As a general rule I don't do pink. Apart from a pair of Mother's Day pyjamas (which would have been bought for me not by me) I don't think there's anything at all at the pink end of the spectrum in my wardrobe.
It's all a bit girlie and I have never been a very girlie girl. From the time I was a young thing I was more inclined to play in the mud than play with the dolls.
And then there was a period where pink became a symbol of everything that was oppressive to young women. The blue is for boys, pink is for girls nonsense.
Now I realise that pink is just a colour. A colour is not oppressive. A colour doesn't mean anything. But it is often associated with things that are overwhelmingly positive from being tickled pink to the pink of condition to pretty in pink - pink is radiating positive all right.
It is also very pretty and quite calming. I love this single pink water lily I photographed at South Bank this morning. The lily pond is predominantly the home to while and yellow flowers but the pink variation is striking, even from my not all that pink perspective. While I'm not about to go and flash my pink bits, there's nothing wrong with with liking a bit of pink. What's not to like about the colour of a baby's cheeks or my puppy's tongue? Nothing. Perhaps I am going soft and cuddly in my old age.