Tuesday, 2 June 2009
Beds, prose and cellars teeming...
Before dashing off to my computer lesson at the Apple Store today, I went to a Large Department Store to look at their beds. The time has come to replace my bed, to ensure that my back does not deteriorate further. Turning the mattress has helped, but not enough.
The sales are on, and all the beds are reduced. Now is the time to buy. I am rather nervous about this purchase, and Dr P looks rather gloomy at the very notion, although he does seem resigned to it. I offered to choose a bed for him too, but he said hastily No No, his bed was fine. I don't believe this for a minute, but far be it from me to dissuade him. Yet.
It is strange that although last year I dauntlessly and daringly spent far more than the bed is likely to cost on a beautiful sideboard, and am absolutely happy with it, stroking it fondly every time I pass it, buying a bed seems like wild and wicked extravagance. What rubbish!
I felt a bit like Goldilocks as, encouraged by the saleswoman, I lay down on bed after bed. Perhaps Goldilocks was doing some secret research into bedding? It is amazing how embarrassed you can feel lying on a bed in broad store light. 'No, no, lie down on it!' she said. 'How does it feel?'
It was actually difficult to tell whether I liked a firm bed or a softer one. Probably cost will be the determining factor, although whatever the price it seems that both firm and soft mattresses are available. If I have time tomorrow I might go to the Other Large Department Store and compare prices.
When we moved to this house it was a struggle to get the beds up the stairs and into position. My bedroom is on the top level, and there are now two inclinators between the ground floor and the middle level. I am beset by vivid images of men struggling up the stairs with the king size bed and its base pieces, and their dodging the inclinators. Almost I am persuaded to downsize to Queen size. But No. Let me be resolute. I don't want to waste all that bed linen.
Fortunately, for a small sum, the shop will remove the discarded bed and take it far far away.
And buying a bed will help stimulate the economy, so it is a purchase that can fill the heart with a feeling of virtue, and the cash registers will resound happily. (Can credit cards resound?)
The glossy brochures for the beds make compelling reading. The sort of prose that could provoke a high school exam essay. (Sorry, Froggie.)
Help Say Goodbye To Restless Nights.
Enhanced Technology to Provide Undisturbed Sleep.
Support You Trust, Comfort You'll Love.
The Ultimate Sleep Experience.
Ultimate stability for minimized partner disturbance.
How can I resist?
All this stuff about sleep, called into my mind a sentence from one of Georgette Heyer's books, Faro's Daughter:
"With these gloomy words she withdrew to her own room, to spend a restless night dreaming of coachmakers' bills; green peas, rats, candle ends, and cellars teeming with bound men."
(What a superb writer Heyer was. How well she could turn a phrase, and her use of parentheses is awesome.)
Having done the bed experience, as it were, I went off for my computer lesson. I learned a little more, especially about things the computer can do which I am never remotely likely to want to practice. It was really quite liberating.