To Bed, To Bed

I love my bed I do.

This is my favourite by far, although having had a wee nap in Boy's bed since he left, it's pretty damn good too, as Is the Toolis.

When I was wee, I slept in Bunk Beds with my sister.

I had the bottom, she had the top. She also had a lot of my hair as part of her bed, as the bottom of her bed, had small coiled springs which if I knelt up, i would catch my hair and rip a lump out. I did that quite a lot.

Once my mum was doing a "good thing", and took in a child from a "poor family" somewhere for a holiday. I was moved from my bed back into a cot, I don't know - maybe I was 3 or 4, but remember watching horrified as this poor child wet my bed. I also remember her threatening me and making me sit on the swing while she threw stones at me to knock me off. What's a child to do?

When I left home I had a series of beds. I had one in a haunted house, but it was all good. For a year I shared a single bed with beloved - How the hell we managed that I'll never know - I fight for space in a king sized now. Ah the closeness of first love.

When we got this bed, the joy we had was overwhelming. A King Sized Bed. In a room which was more than big enough for it. We could all fit in it - Me, Beloved, Boy and The Tooli, admittedly, we were all a lot smaller then.

I adore it. I adore it most when the sheets are just newly laundered, and hopefully wind dried. I did that at the weekend, when I had it all to myself.

it's important to appreciate the little things in life, which is why, every night, as I sit on my bed I always say "hello bed, I love you".