For the past three or four or more mornings I’ve woken with an almighty crick in the neck. Upon investigation and a process of elimination, I isolated this crickieness problem on my pillow and not, as expected, on her indoors.
This pillow is constructed from that memory foam but, alas, it appears that over the course of time, as it got older, it’s lost its memory. I can relate to that.
Now, what was I writing about? Ah, Ha!! Dumb pillows. This loss of memory has resulted in a pillow with a central area, head supporting bit, as thin as a pensioners wallet with two end bits almost as thick as your average MP. It seems impossible to re-constitute this foam and it stays stubbornly stuck with this latest memory.
New is needed to help my crikly old neck. I know, shopping. But we’re out for a pillow. A pillow. What could be easier?
The pillow shop had a bewildering array of, believe it or not, pillows. Pillows of amazingly differing constructions, shapes and sizes with prices ranging from, that’s reasonable, all the way through to, they’ve gotta be kidding, with, they’ve gotta be kidding, costing, if my foamy memory serves me, a tad more than the bed did.
After much prodding, poking, thumping, squeezing and squashing I, with my little nest of vipers consent, settled on a suitably thick, soft, mid, but still eye wateringly priced, pillow with a stuffing that, the label said, had no memory available at all so should fit my head very well and the stuffing it was stuffed with is totally natural stuff.
We have a result! Although I awoke with no cricklyness at all, I have to say that through the night I was conscious of a very slight odour that, if I was asked, was what I imagine warm, damp duck down and the feathers from an un-washed and totally plucked old goose would smell like……
Quote; W. C. Fields.
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