I am in the curious situation of being written about, instead of vice versa. Seven teen-age grammar school pupils are writing the stories of seven people in sheltered housing or care homes. Xenia spends an hour with me every Monday, and I am in for some surprises. Many people write here about long-term sleep problems. Currently awful weather, pain and boredom make my bed (and my beautiful bedroom) a desirable haven, all of which provoked the title.

When I finished my first degree in 1988 I was not actually at a loss, but, with a house in France, looked to pursue the language. Rennes University had a month’s summer school, four levels, in  Saint Malo. I opted for lever 3 (4 was for teachers). As I had a car I was offered lodging out of the town, choice dinner, bed and breakfast. I opted for bed and breakfast, luckily. Evenings could be spent in a creperie, or, mostly, with a book, picnic, and a comfortable rock overlooking the sea and the sunset. I say ‘luckily’ because my hostess was one of the saddest women I have ever met, and although sympathetic, every evening, no thanks. Most of her life had been lived in the town centre, walk to shops, neighbours, tourists, lively. Her husband made money and moved them out on to a new expensive housing estate. She had never been allowed to drive. Nearly all her neighbours were young professionals. She loved gardening and knitting, but her hands became crippled with arthritis. Her husband disappeared back into town every evening, meetings, sports fixtures. She said, often ‘I like my bed’ only comfort she had.

Recently I have heard of lots of people whose sleep is disturbed as they get older by changes in sleeping patterns. Pain demands space and perhaps a different mattress. One needs loads of covers, the other roasts. One is a sound sleeper, the other an insomniac. Snoring, threshing about (Mr G and I were like starfish). But they continue in the marital bed getting stressed and suffering sleep deprivation. I know this is very intimate. But one friend, very sound marriage, said at last her husband agreed on single beds, she was crippled with arthritis and needed freedom to move. I know, subtly, of many people who felt single beds were the end of marriage. I wondered if there was an undercurrent of fear, proximity to another person meant security.

In our first house we had no furniture, intending going to work in Africa. A friend gave us a very serviceable bed, but the mattress was stuffed with bricks. How many people stick to old or unsuitable mattresses? How many arguments about windows shut/open. And, a modern occurrence, and reckoned bad for sleep, having a screen of any kind in your room? TV in your bedroom now regarded as a barrier to sleep, when do you turn it off? Some people cannot be separated from their phones. For so many people, a good night’s sleep is a luxury. And you? 

The Gardener

A Moodscope member