the blasts, the fallout, the sickness and the diar[y]hoea

Bed And Buried

I came home last night to find my bed covered in cushions. Not a big thing I hear you say, and maybe you are right. Yet when I say covered in cushions, I mean covered in cushions. An excess of cushions. It was the cushion mountain of Europe. It was, and I’m making up the collective noun here, a suffocation of cushions.

WTF I thought. Why are there so many damn cushions all over my bed? I mean I couldn’t see the bed.

Enola Gay came in then and mistook my open jawed incredulity for a state of awe.

“You like them all then.” she said.

“Err,” I didn’t know what to say. “Why… well just why?” I said.

“I saw it on 60 Minute Makeover,” she said, and I groan inwardly. Makeover shows have a lot to answer for in my house. I have lost count of the number of  rooms I’ve been pressed into sponging or stenciling with the latest ethnic trend. We had an Egyptian toilet at one point.

Enola continues, “Richard, the designer says that more cushions make the room look more cosy and comfortable and add a designer chic.” I find it bizarre how she refers to TV personalities by their first name like she knows them. And what by the devils own hairy nads is a “designer chic”? And it was more claustrophobic than cosy.

“Hmm. I’m not sure really. There’s a bit of a surplus of them don’t you think?”

“That’s the point. You need so many to make the look work. And they’re all top quality. Burberry, Cole and Son, that one there is Kangaroo leather and this one is Springbok. And that one is Chinese silk.”


“OK. But… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. There are so many that you can’t use them. It’s like one or two you can use, they have a function, but this many kind of negates the purpose of cushions.”

“Oh don’t start. I try to do something nice and you ruin it. Why can’t you just go along with it?”

“Well, sorry, I don’t get it. Plus, why do we need them on a bed? We have pillows already.”

She scowled at me and harrumphed out of the room.

Now is it me? Am I designerly challenged? Is there some hitherto undiscovered reason for scatter cushions that I am unaware of? Please someone explain it to me.

To top it all off when it came to going to bed last night, there was nowhere to put them all. They ended up on the floor, strewn about like a soft furnishing massacre. After an age of being unable to sleep as my brain would not stop trying to reckon the cost of the mountain of designer cushions my mood was not improved when at halfuckin’ past two I got up for a visit to the toilet (now a tasteful Moroccan theme) and tripped over the springbok, slipped on the Chinese silk and cracked my head on the edge of the door.

I’m pretty sure I heard a muffled chuckle from Enola Gay’s side of the bed.

A suffocation of cushions indeed.


2 Responses to “Bed And Buried”

  1. This makes me think of my fella – I really want one of those satin throws for our bed to make it look ‘finished’ – he thinks they’re ‘crap’..

    You just need to understand that women have the need to make things look pretty and all they want is for you to say it looks nice.

    That’s all you have to do. One job. ‘That looks nice’. Job done.
    Get over it.


  2. Women do seem to be a little needy in that regard.

    If you mean one of those quilted, satin throws you find at the foot of O.A.P. beds then I’m with your fella. It would make it look ‘finished’ off, it’d be the decoration equivalent of a coup de grâce!

    As for getting over it, I’m not sure Hannibal and his elephants would’ve gotten over those cushions!


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