The Archaeology of my Life in Bed

Some one who was obsessed with me once declared rather disapprovingly that I had 'an alternative lifestyle'.  He was a transplanted Brit who was living in the States but working for an enormous German firm at the time.  He was soon to be 'laid off' by the same firm...  At this point, he began to lead a very peculiar lifestyle himself and one that intersected with mine only at certain well-defined points.  I am sorry to say, however, that I allowed his opinion to colour mine to the extent that I moved from the Lower East Side in New York to the Upper East Side.

Much water has flowed beneath that bridge.  I haven't lived in Manhattan for a long time, but I have to admit that I never enjoyed the Upper East Side half as much as the East Village.  The East Village was a real neighbourhood and a very international one.  I could pop down the road for Tibetan noodles at a restaurant run by anti-communist Tibetan rebals or enjoy a marvelous Italian pastry at a rather well-known bakery on another corner. 

It was not my life in Manhattan that was to be the topic of this post, however, but my more recent life outside New York.   The changing of my bed linen is a HUGE task, as my bed occupies most of my tiny bedroom and is the place where I live for the most part.  As a young girl, I read that Louis XIV during the Fronde was forced to sleep in a bed where the linens never were changed until they literally rotted.  That always fascinated me for some reason, probably because his name is synonymous with sybaritic, excessive luxury.

In the process of moving all of the pillows, featherbeds, mattresses and technological appliances from my bed, a task that incidentally has taken two days, I discovered many lost treasures and rather odd items...

'The Princess and the Pea' is a tale that I loved as a child and recently I found an illustration of it.  The tale is about the extraordinary sensitivity that distinguishes a true 'princess' from an imposer, but in fact, my tale is about a bed with five featherbeds and two mattresses.

As a child, my bed had an old headboard that contained two bookshelves.  I therefore slept with my favourite novels and books of poetry above my head.  I once designed a canopied bed with curtains, bookshelves at the head and shelves beneath the mattress.  I always loved the idea of embracing a variety of experiences in bed but I never expected to be restricted to a life in bed for the most part.  Unfortunately, that is my reality at present.  I suppose it is fortunate that I basically LIKE to read and work in bed, even though many of the activities I love, such as walking, hiking, martial arts training, fencing and dancing are denied to me now.


Inter alia, I found a knife that commemorates the battle of Austerlitz entangled in a duvet along with a small Italian Amaretti di Saronno biscuit tin containing my collection of Lake District jet fossils.   I found my .360 Colt pistol but alas, did NOT find any bullets, nor have I uncovered the magazine.  I did find my jewelery repair tools and my shepherd's cloak from Tunisia.