Monday, 11 June 2007

Where ever I lay my head, is home......

Pillows. We take them very much for granted. We plump them up and
dribble in our sleep on them. It's only when you are confronted by
a strange pillow your realise just how much you love your normal ones.
My pillows are Rumanian duck down from Peter Jones Sloane Square.
The wonderful Wendy is allergic to feathers and has to sleep with
hollow fill in order to drift off. These pillows have no ordinary
traits, they spring your head up like a ball when your head hits.
They give no quarter. My sleep patterns have been turned on their
head. You wake up and turn over and it's like Mike Tyson has hit
you around the ear. I have had to resort to a minor building project
by making a ramp that supports my head with no bounce. Last night
was the first deep sleep I have had.Such is love, sleeping on a ramp
for the one you love.

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