And so to bed

And so to bed

I shall never forget his face when I came in from the garden and said “Its time we bought a new bed”

“What on earth do you mean?” he said  “There’s nothing wrong with our old one, we’ve only had it 20 years”

“ Well “ I replied “For a start every time you need to get up in the night and then get back into bed the frame squeaks and groans like a herd of pigs being slaughtered.  Then there is the ridge down the middle of the mattress because while a super king bed is great and the mattress stays flat when one is young and agile there comes a time when Anno Domini takes over in the shape of arthritis etc and an electric blanket is a much less painful way of keeping warm, quite apart from that I fidget and you snore so I think the new bed should take the form of 2 push together singles.”

“Two singles,” he said looking horrified “Why not just buy a new super king, anyway what has suddenly brought this on.”

“I have just been wrestling with the sheets, trying to get them on the whirly wash line.” I said “It’s bad and when I got entangled yet again in yards of cream polyester cotton, Rose next door shouted over and asked if I was practising to be an extra in the film The Mummy.  Apart from that, I struggle with the duvet cover and the sheets every time I make the bed, it’s the old Anno Domini again, I’m not as strong in the arm as I was 20 years ago so two single beds with attendant smaller bed linen will make my life a great deal easier.

“I could always give you a hand with making the bed,” he said with a note of desperation in his voice.

“No “ I answered, “That does not solve the problem of the ridge in the mattress and I would find the mental strain of dragging you away from the TV to help me with bed-making far worse than the physical strain of doing it myself, no new beds it has to be.”

“Alright, if you insist,” he said “Anything to keep you happy”

The next day off we went bed shopping and returned home £800 poorer than when we set out but with the promise of the new beds arriving in three weeks time.

Now the company who were supplying the new beds would have removed the old one and disposed of it for £60 but my dear spouse being a man of a slightly parsimonious nature declined their offer and decided that we could save the £60 and deal with the problem ourselves. Time passed and 2 days before the new beds were to be delivered we gave thought to the disposal of the old six-foot bed.  A good friend was co-opted to come and assist with the removal from bedroom to garage where the bed was to be disassembled, the wooden parts to be burned and the springs and mattress conveyed to the council tip. This task was duly completed albeit with a certain amount of struggling and swearing.  We then spent three nights in the spare bedroom sleeping on a normal size double bed, not a particularly comfortable experience as neither of us are what one would term sylphlike and I as I have mentioned earlier am an extremely restless sleeper. He always says he will have the words “Now Bloody Fidget” put on my tombstone but as I intend to be cremated and scattered I can’t see how he will achieve that.

The day for the new beds to arrive duly dawned and at 6.50am the bedside telephone rang, when I answered it was the delivery man who announced that he was outside the house waiting to deliver the beds.  Out of bed, dressing gown on, rush downstairs to let men in with beds. Ten minutes later beds were in bedroom, men had departed and me back to spare bed.

During the day beds assembled, made up and ready for use.  That night absolute bliss no squeals, me able to toss and turn at will.  Next morning he had to agree that I had been right to pull rank and insist on new beds.

Footnote:  A few nights ago, I turned over and lay on a stray hand encroaching into my bed, I should say the beds are pushed together, so not content with his own bed I wonder if he is trying to take over mine as well,  We shall see…