In case you’ve not been sleeping waiting for my article in last weeks paper here it is. As there is no link available online I’ll share it here the wordpress way.
I am a shopping failure. I arrive at aisle one determined to be disciplined, I will only choose what I need, but alas something always catches my eye. Cakes on special offer or sauces I’ll never use demand I buy them. As do less obvious purchases, such as a knife sharpener, now gathering dust, or hair clippers which roared like a chain saw and were deemed ‘too scary’.
Most recently, a very special, rather expensive, pillow caught my eye. This was no ordinary pillow. It was a ‘memory’ pillow, promising a ‘perfect night’s sleep’. How? Well it was ‘NASA engineered’ of course. So convinced was I as to its magic properties, I almost threw in two, before looking at the price. If himself saw that he’d be awake all night.
On arriving home, I put away the few groceries I’d wanted and the towels, socks and cushions I hadn’t and climbed the stairs with that magic pillow. Looking at my old, pathetic, sliver of a pillow it was a wonder I slept at all. I whipped that ancient relic off the bed and threw myself down on my luxurious, NASA engineered, magic one.
I nearly broke my neck! It would appear that magic memory pillows are rock hard. They are also rather huge. Lying down on it meant I was almost sitting upright, my neck tilted at what seemed to be a rather unnatural angle. But what did I know? I’d obviously been lying down wrong all these years.
Later that night as we settled to bed.
“What are you doing up there?” himself asked from his thin, lumpy, slip of a pillow, way below mine.
“I’m on my new pillow. It’s a memory foam one. NASA engineered, so it must be good.”
“Oh! Well I hope you don’t fall off!”
“No chance and I’ve set my clock for the morning, just in case I’ve a really sound sleep.”
I turned over onto my favoured side and waited for sleep to come. It was not exactly the pleasant experience I’d imagined. More concrete than luxurious. Within minutes my ear began to go numb. I turned the other way… no better. A little disappointed I sat up and whacked my magic pillow a few times, trying to make a small dent in which to place my head. Apart from nearly breaking my knuckles, nothing happened the pillow. I tossed and turned, huffed and puffed, but sleep evaded me.
“I’m not too sure about this pillow.” I said. No reply. Himself was possibly already asleep on his old, sliver of a pillow.
“Right I’ve had enough,” I announced, in a louder voice, “this pillow is a disaster.”
“Ah for goodness sake!” came the groan from below, “Typical of you. How is it meant to remember you if you don’t give it a chance? Here I’ll take it.”
So I gladly settled on my old, but perfect pillow, as himself towered above me on the magic concrete. I smiled at his tossing and turning, but eventually we both nodded off. Hours later I woke up to a moaning noise. Himself was sitting upright, twisting his neck from side to side. I watched from below as he thumped and pummelled the magic pillow before lying down once more. Moments later he was on the move again, tossing and turning before I heard him shout.
“Ah for heaven’s sake!” And with a very loud thud the magic pillow hit the floor.
“Oh dear, does it not remember you?” I queried.
As we both settled on our ancient, thin imperfect pillows I thought to myself, perhaps I was mistaken, maybe it was not the pillow that remembered us, but we who would never forget it?
Photo credit, London Irish Graduate Network