I don’t know about you, but when fantastically white fluffy cumulus clouds fill otherwise gloomy British skies, I’m consistently sent into a swirling daydream about what it would be like to rest my weary head on one of those floating, transient marshmallows before entering a deep, uninterrupted and rejuvenating sleep.
Like Goldilocks, pillows never seem to fit quite right. Unless I’ve found myself lucky enough to be staying in a luxurious hotel with secret, magical and forever undisclosed pillow fillings, sleeping on relatively uncomfortable bolsters is something I’ve accepted to be a fact of life.
