And So To Bed

I love my bed. Who doesn't? I had to leap out of it at 5.30 this morning in order to travel from Blackpool to Reading for the Seasiders' final league fixture of the football season.

The head of the bed is in the bay window of my bedroom. The house faces east, and I enjoy the way the rising sun filters through the blinds on fine mornings. I also like fresh air at night so the top windows are normally open, letting in the scent of magnolia blossom when the tree in my front garden flowers (thrice a year if I'm lucky). 

It's a king-size affair with a firm orthopaedic mattress which I turn every three months (side to side then top to bottom, always an interesting manoeuvre). I suffer from backache whenever I have to sleep in a soft or sagging bed. I have four sets of cotton bedding (pillow-cases, under-sheets and duvet covers) in blue, yellow, beige and grey, and I always mix and match them because I don't like uniformity. In cooler weather I sometimes add a striped faux-fur blanket for weight and warmth (as above). 

I've always refused to have a tv in the bedroom and never use a lap-top computer in bed. Most nights I will read a book for a while before lights out. Sometimes I listen to music. Recently I've been listening to the rain. It's actually quite soothing, when one is snug and warm. I've always slept on the left  side of the bed and on my left side, whether I'm alone or sharing. And that's all you need to know about that, really.

Having been out of the house for fifteen hours today and having watched my team just throw away the chance of reaching the end-of-season play-offs after a lazy and uninspiring performance at Reading (we were one up but eventually lost 3-2), all I want to do now is drink a glass of red wine (good for the heart, I'm told0, finish this week's poem (below), put the blog to bed and head upstairs to the comfort of my own. Maybe I'll dream about Blackpool actually winning the game and a promotion that will now have to wait until the next campaign. Perhaps I'll end up dreaming about my ex-wife. Cue...

Fair Copy

Roses, she said,

bed me with passion, with petals,

with perfume. Show me

romance is not dead...

so naturally I did

for she was a loving soul

and there were many tender

and electrifying nights, but

I remember that note

with the hand-written quotation

and I've wondered for an age 

was it seduction by rote?

Once she became my wife

I grew increasingly certain

she'd never actually read a page

of Catullus in her life.

Thanks for reading. Sleep well peeps, S ;-)