Custard cream bed.

My single bed is so small that it can barely accomodate me.

When Fiona comes to stay, then, it is like two people trying to squeeze onto a stale custard cream. Getting to sleep is challenge- perched on the void with your arms in a tangle. And, when you finally escape the discomfort by dropping off (to sleep that is) you merely awake half an hour later, smothered by your own numb hand which you then have to throw back over the covers.

In the end, two people squeezing on to my bed ends up being the equivalent of three, two alive and one dead guy who turns up every half hour.