Cushions are one of the crucial safety features for me at the castle, loads and loads of them, including some shaped like biscuits and some like clouds.
I had a long “ticcing fit” in the early hours of the morning yesterday while Will was supporting me. Afterwards, as he was recording the fit in the usual way and getting ready to go back to bed, I ticced:
“Don’t leave me under a cloud!”
Will turned round, looked at me and laughed. Somehow I’d ended up with one of the large cloud cushions on my head. I repeated the tic several times before freeing myself from the irregular woolly shape.
Laughing, I put my head on the cushion, ready to go back to sleep. After all, it’s better to be on a cloud than under one.
“Is your mind clouded by Santa’s spit?”