I know you’ve always wondered how to make an English pillow so I’m here to teach you how it’s done. The Canadian-au-pair-in-England way.
This offensive object is just my latest knitting project.
It’s a pillow (jerks). I made a pillow.
Now, it was not difficult (and obviously I didn’t really try to make things match) but it was interesting. I decided to admit I’d made an offensively ugly pillow so I could tell the story of how I made the pillow. And then maybe said pillow will endear itself to your heart.
How to make an English pillow
Day after day I sit at home and watch the devil puppy eat her toys. She is methodical. First, she takes the head off of whichever poor toy is set for demolition that day. Then, she takes out every bit of stuffing from the toy, slowly, until there is nothing left to unstuff and there are white chunks all over the back garden.
Day after day I follow the puppy around, throwing away the devastation and picking up white fluff.
After a while I thought I should do something constructive with the fluff. And what better project is there than a pillow?
Plus I’ve made an ambitious goal of using up all my yarn before I visit Vancouver at the end of July (six weeks!) so a pillow was a great excuse.
I tried following a pattern, but about 3/4 of the way through I realized it had gotten away from me (although I’m not sure if I mean the pattern or the pillow) and gave up. I stuffed that sucker with all the death fluff and sent it through the washing machine.
The kids absolutely hate the English pillow. They say it’s the ugliest thing they’ve ever seen. Well, the 13-year-old said it was pretty, “in its way,” but I don’t believe him.
He just didn’t want to see my cry.
I wouldn’t have cried. It’s just a pillow. Created from rejection.
I am in no way attached to it.