I have hit new depths of
patheticness, but at least this time I was not alone.
It started innocently, with Sheila complaining that she'd been offered a wardrobe that was too big for her bedroom. I suggested she get a single bed.
Then me, Sheila and Andy all revealed that we sleep alone in double beds. We discussed whether we slept on the edge or in the middle, but no one needed the space, not to sprawl or roll or jump up and down making "wheee!" noises, still less to make whoopee.
We even found that at least two of us only use one pillow, so no pretence at a love-nest there. When we pull, it's strictly a case of, "Love, pop down to John Lewis's sale and pick up a pillow", or if you're suave, "Get your coat, love, you've pulled, and you can roll it up and lay your head on it."
Personally I find the space beside my pillow makes a decent bedside table, good enough to hold an alarm clock and a paperback I can pretend to read. And if I ever did bring a girl home, she could flick idly through "The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter" as I took her from behind.
Next time on Pottedstu: how I steal shop dummies from bins to keep me company. And the amusing adventures we have.