I want you to think of the tiny, slightly shiny and ribbed nails on a baby’s fingers, how fragile they are.
Or the tiny dotty patterns that emerge from the grey stripes as you cook a King Prawn.
What about the inside of a conch, smooth as polished marble and translucent?
Just look at the soft ears of a rabbit back lit on the chalk downs or the dainty five-petalled flowers of purslane, each striped with white like stars.
Seaside rock with Scarboro’ all the way through and flamingos standing on one leg with their tails tinted the colour of boiled shrimps .
Consider the pinks, those oh-so-scented little sisters of the carnation with their painted eyelashes and frilled edges – and fat cabbage roses dropping silky petals on the lawn.
Ponder upon peonies, so oriental, sumptuous and heavy; gladioli – those gorgeous drama queens and the lovely moth orchid.
Who could leave out Sakura, Cherry Blossom – so beautiful and evanescent that the Japanese have a festival just to look at it?
Remember the dangling fuchsia, like earrings or fairy ballerinas, and the stong broad stems of Yorkshire rhubarb that tint your pink champagne.
Imagine grenadine syrup with its treacly glow and the inside of pomegranates faceted like jewels: the sudden rosy flare of lithium in fireworks and the swift blush of a snowy day upon your cheek.
Can you bring to mind Eton mess and cranachan and strawberry jelly? Moulded heaps of blancmange to make you giggle and the best roast beef. Beetroot juice and the wiggly lines in Raspberry Ripple.
Saris and salwar khameez trimmed with gold. Corals too precious to wear and coconut ice and sweet luscious lips.
Baby Amazon dolphins, piglets and the noses of kittens.
Think pink and think of lovely things that we are given to appreciate for just a little while.
Think pink and think of The Breast Cancer Campaign.
Think pink and think of Ines.