I love my bed. It’s a good bed. It’s the bed that we purchased when we were first married. It’s the bed that my children have all slept in at some point or other. It’s the bed that they still creep into at night-time if they manage to catch me at a weak moment (I’m getting increasingly better at shooing them away – even when I’m still half asleep) And, well, you see…I just want a grown up bed now. I think I’m ready.
I want a bed made for silk nighties and romantic novels…
I want a bed that I can eat chocolate and sip champagne on…
I want a bed that justifies wearing my drawer full of pretty underwear…
Maybe something glamorous, with a pop of colour…
Perhaps slightly French looking…
Or something dramatic that looks good with crisp white sheets…
Definitely something that “Daphne” would look good lounging on.
And above all, something where decade old stripy pyjama pants (mine) and 3 sticky fingered kids (also mine) are definitely not allowed…
I WANT A STATEMENT BED! Watch this space…
