My bed is King sized. It’s official. Fact.
Another fact that I learnt tonight is that of all the mattresses in all the world, the one that I desired had to be the most expensive, hundreds of £’s worth of springs and material. Despite the fact that I turn out looking like an extra from Oliver, I appear to have expensive taste. I’m surrounded by the best of everything that I simply can’t afford.
Bear in mind that this was a whim anyway, I’d convinced myself that a new mattress was a good idea, it’s not as if the existing one had started to talk to me or ran off with the wardrobe. So I stood there with that strange mixture of excitement and fear that imbues one when you are about to embark on the adventure of spending a lot of money needlessly….and took one more lap of the shop to make absolutely sure I would do the deed. And in the corner I found mattress pads, guaranteed to transform even the shoddiest, moth eaten bag full of spanners into a blissful nights sleep, at a fraction of the cost of a new mattress. Pasteur must have felt the same way when he discovered penicillin, though probably less smug.
So I’ve treated myself, new pillows, new sheets and duvet cover, and tall thick church candles to read by. I’ve just come home from walking the dogs, it’s 10.30, and I’m excited like a big girl’s blouse at the thought of tucking up in a ‘brand new bed’.
And it’s strange isn’t it, that in a way that’s a meaning of life, it doesn’t matter what a drudge the majority of it is, the key is having something to look forward to. (The only thing that could make it better tonight would be to share the soft cool newness).
I keep looking at Milady’s blog to see if there’s any news.