Pillow Talk

You know you're getting old when you get excited about finally finding the right pillow to lay your head on at night. I mean, what type of a saddo would wax lyrical about that?

Me, obviously.

When I left home at 19 years old, my mother presented me with a set of bedding which included a pillow. Being young, skint, and not very well organised, although I complained about the paltriness of the pillow for a little while, I didn't get round to replacing it - and pretty soon, I got used to it. But this presented a problem. Whenever I slept on a different - more normal - pillow, my neck ached.

Not for me those big puffy marshmallows that you see used in American soap operas and in department store windows. Not for me the luxury of sinking back, properly supported, on acres of goose-down. No, for years now I have been on a quest for the perfect skinny pillow. I hunted high and low. In department stores, in bedding stores, and invariably, with no luck. At times, I even resorted to sleeping on a folded towel when the puffiness of replacement pillows got too much.

Some well-meaning girlfriends, knowing of the fruitlessness of my quest, and no doubt bored with hearing me whitter on about it, even bought me what they thought was a thin pillow for my 40th birthday. I'd rather been hoping for Liberty gift vouchers or something unspeakable from Myla, but there you go. However, whilst a pillow did not score that highly in the excitement stakes, it did get closer to wish-fulfillment than the table linen my MiL was originally suggesting she buy me for the same birthday... (In her defence, when she saw my face fall, she quickly followed that idea up with an alternative of vouchers for a facial. Result! Though, now I think about it, perhaps not very flattering...) Anyway, if that 40th birthday pillow was thin, then I'm Cameron Diaz.

So, I was still looking. Until last week. When I finally did what I should have done years ago, and in a fit of very belated genius googled the following: Thin Pillows. And I now have the pillow of my dreams, thanks to Lily Sophia Silk & Cotton.

Now I know my dream pillow exists, I'm going back to the site. I plan to order more so that I am never without a skinny pillow. No doubt as I get older and even more of a pain (though of course I will much prefer to call it 'charming eccentricity'), I will take to bringing one with me whenever I lay my head somewhere other than home...


But before I wander off contentedly into a world of silk-filled pillows and high thread count Egyptian cottons, I have a couple of thank-you's to make.

Tara at From Dawn 'til Rusk has very kindly given me this award. Ain't it purty?










Expect to see it appear on my sidebar very shortly. As ever, there are rules attached, as follows:

1. Put the logo on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you.
3. Nominate seven other blogs - but Tara cut it down to 5 because in her words 'I'm lazy', and I'm much too polite to do otherwise...
4. Add links to those blogs on your blog.
5. Leave a message for your nominee on their blogs.

So, here we are with my five (yes, FIVE) nominations, in no particular order. Before I start, you may notice I've included some bloggers that I've only started reading relatively recently. Let's spread the luurrve, people...

Mud in the City, who says about herself: Never happier than when I'm knee deep in mud in the country after a bracing walk, instead I find myself living in Fulham and trying to live a professional life. I love my independence, cheese and too much pinot grigio. I hate baked beans, rudeness and cotton wool.

Grit on Grit's Day, who writes: Grit. Mother of 7-year old home-educated triplets Squirrel, Shark and Tiger. We survive. I am married to Dig who is important.

Reluctant Memsahib, who says of herself (and apologies RM, for cutting short your long and wonderful 'About Me' description): That I am a third generation Celt in Africa, means I am a Memsahib, like it or not. I’d rather be mama or dada (sister) or – especially – simply addressed by name. None would bear bloodycolonial connotation. But no, third generation and white, African logic (or quiet humour) dictates I am memsahib.... I write, I walk, I teach my youngest at home in lieu of a school run and I try not to mind being memsahib.

Dulwich Divorcee, who writes: I'm just like you - but maybe a bit sadder and trying to get wiser

Samurai Beetle, who in 'About Me' says: My name is Rachel M. I live in South Florida with -Husband, Baby Girl, 2 enormous boy cats, 1 pretty princess cat, 1 cavalier king charles

Enjoy!

I also need to thank Hadriana's Treasures for another award, but to do that proper justice I think I will do it in the next post. And of course it means I get to enjoy the moment a little bit longer...


Now, please excuse me; not only is my silk-filled Thin Pillow (note the caps, because it's worth it) calling me, but Boy #1 is refusing to sleep and I need to go and give him a teaspoonful of milk masquarading as medicine to help him drift off... (The lies we mummies tell!)