And so to Bed!

Good morning everyone! Although it’s Sunday for you I am writing this week’s blog on the Wednesday before. Due to overtime and mad shift patterns, I’m working all weekend and won’t have time to write anything. So, I’m sitting here, coffee in hand, trying to gather my thoughts about what has happened since we last chattered, and waiting for Miss F’s new bed to be delivered.

Regular followers of me on Instagram will know that I only bought her a new bed three years ago when we upsized her from a single to a four-foot small double. Working for a bed store I receive quite a nice discount so took Miss F to work on a day off to try out mattresses. Of course, she fell in love with one of the most expensive in the shop but with my discount and putting it on interest-free credit, it was doable. When it came to the bed though, she didn’t like any of the small double beds we sold. Being a non-standard size there wasn’t so much choice.

Adamant she didn’t like any of them, I gave up and we looked online for a bed that she did. She chose a white painted metal bed on eBay that had crystal knobs and a twisty patterned head and foot end. It was cheap, I must admit, at just over £100 delivered, so we ordered it.

And then the fun began.

They gave us a delivery date. I waited in all day. No show. I messaged them. So sorry, they said, there was a stock issue. They gave us another delivery date. I waited in again. This time half the bed turned up. Frantic messages were sent. Eventually, they gave me another delivery date of 2am! Not believing this could possibly be correct, I tried in vain to confirm this with the company, but they’d gone off the radar. I waited up until 2am, but of course, it was a no show.

Now getting seriously annoyed. I fired off several terse emails, all of which were ignored. I then phoned them and sat on the phone and let it ring for almost forty minutes before eventually it was answered by the manager of the company. Holding in my temper, I explained the situation.

He was very sorry, he said, it was the delivery company they used which had seriously let them down. The other half of the bed would be delivered in two days. So long as it is, I snapped.

Meanwhile, Miss F had been sleeping in the spare room and her very expensive mattress – which had been delivered hassle-free by my company exactly when they said it would be – was leaning up on its side on the landing. Not a good thing for a mattress.

True to their word though, the other half of the bed was delivered two days later. Thankful the whole saga was at an end, I started putting the bed together – only to discover that the crossbeam to connect across the bottom was clearly for a single bed and not a small double!

More emails ensued. Eventually, two days later, an email came saying they were having trouble tracking down the correct piece so would send me a completely new bed, and please could I have the faulty one all packed up ready to be collected.

Fuming and unable to believe this latest turn of events, I dismantled the bed it had taken me a good couple of hours to put together, packaged it all back up as best I could, and awaited this mythical delivery.

They’d given me a time of 3pm. Again, a no show. Again, I tried emailing them to no avail. Accepting that I’d been rooked of over £100 for a faulty product, I decided to start proceedings against them through eBay as soon as I got home from work the next day and went to bed seriously fed up with the whole situation.

The next morning, I was about to leave the house for work when there was a knock at the door. It was the delivery man who’d delivered all the other bits of the bed.

Have you come to collect a faulty bed? I asked.

No, he scratched his head and looked puzzled. I’ve just come to give you this.

He handed me a four-foot bottom crossbeam and then wondered why I had a meltdown on the doorstep and threw a few choice words out into the street.

Yes, I was happy I finally had the missing piece, but it meant I had to re-assemble the bed I had dismantled, so I was an annoyed and very frustrated bunny and left a one-star review on eBay stating this. Two days later I received an email from the company expressing their dismay at my feedback and asking if it was something they’d done?!

Words failed me at that point.

Anyway, Miss F finally had the bed she wanted, and yes, it was a very pretty bed and for a year or so all was well. But it was a very cheap bed and the mattress she’d chosen a very heavy one. The bed started to creak alarmingly. Taking off the mattress, I tightened all the bolts and noticed that cracks had appeared in the main metal beam running down the centre of the frame.

We braced the bed with old author copies of my books secured with much duct tape. Over the next couple of years, the legs began to resemble bananas and the crack in the main beam grew until over Christmas, when Miss F came home for a visit, the bed was visibly showing the strain and I knew something had to be done about it.

So, I’m now sitting here, drinking coffee, chatting with you, and awaiting the delivery of the solid wooden bed that I originally wanted to buy her three years ago, and I think the upshot of this tale is – IF YOU BUY CHEAP YOU BUY TWICE!

Lol, when I told Miss F I was buying her a new bed she asked if she had any input into which one? Umm, no. Tried that last time, and look how well that turned out!

What else has happened? The stats from the launch of Rambling Rose are in and they’re not bad. It wasn’t the most successful launch I’ve ever had, but neither was it the worst. Interestingly, sales of paperbacks were almost as high as those for eBooks, which is unusual for an indie author. It’s nice to see that my readers wanted Rose as a physical book, rather than merely reading it on a screen.

Feedback so far has also been lovely. With Rose barely a week old she has already received half a dozen five-star reviews on Goodreads.

I was invited to take part in a couple of online interviews which were fun. One was broadcast live on Instagram and was on the topic of what to do when your account is hacked or blocked for some reason. The other was with a book blogger who let me ramble on for over two hours about all things bookish and life in general. That one won’t be aired until May sometime.

I also enjoyed another dinner and theatre evening last Saturday. This time it was to see a play called Home, I’m Darling and was a peculiar piece about a young couple who love the Fifties so much they try to recreate it in their own home, with the husband going out to work in full fifties garb and a hat, and the wife staying home and being a domestic goddess in vintage dresses and a lot of red lipstick. All seems idyllic until financial hardships cause cracks in their perfect arrangement, and they realise that modern life is unsustainable on a single income.

There was one particularly poignant moment when the young wife is confronted by her mother with a few harsh truths about the Fifties – that they were not the golden era the young couple perceived them to be – but were difficult and grey. A time when food was still scarce and bland, and women had no rights at all, and their husbands could treat them any way they pleased.

I didn’t fight and protest as hard as I did for your freedom, just for you to throw it all away on some nostalgic nonsense!

Before the theatre, we had an early dinner at our usual pub, and I know the food was delicious because it always is, but sadly my taste buds are still not functioning properly and all I can taste is mouldy mushrooms. Thanks, Covid, you really are the gift that keeps on giving.

That Saturday was certainly a busy one. In the morning, my dad called around to help me dismantle Miss F’s old bed – although, in fairness, I think one good kick would have done that! He also removed the hood from the wicker sofa in the garden. We never put that hood up because being under a tree the sofa is in the shade as it is. Over the years, the hood has become disgusting with green algae, bird poop, squashed cherry juice from the tree above, and it’s full of cobwebs and creepy crawlies.

The day before dad was due to come, I put the hood up and took a broom to it to sweep all the nasties off. A couple of freaky spiders dropped out and sat on the ground staring at me. Large, with short thick legs and a shiny black bulbous bottom with a thick brown stripe around it, they were menacing and horrible. I’m afraid I crushed them under a brick because they scared me. Then I went in and googled them and discovered that they were False Widows. Nasty venomous spiders that have invaded the UK in recent years. Big shudder!

So, the bed and the hood, plus an old printer that has been sitting in the corner of my bedroom for a year, a load of solar lights that stopped working ages ago, and the old metal shelves from the bathroom, were all loaded into the back of my dad’s van, and we trundled off to the new recycling centre. He hasn’t been since it has been relocated and updated, but I’d been once so know the way plus it was very well signposted.

It’s ever so posh there now. You must book an appointment time and everything. There’s number plate recognition at the gate, and if your number’s not on the list, you’re not coming in! Only the correct number of cars to parking bays are allowed in, and it’s all very efficient. We were done there in a matter of minutes, then went back to mine to chill out in the sun at the bottom of the garden, drinking latte, and watching as the giant crane on the building site on the other side of the garden wall swung about in the sunshine.

After dad left, I decided to pop uptown and see about buying a new top to wear that evening. I’m lacking in the clothes department – especially after the Great Plague of Moths 2020 – so thought I’d treat myself. As I’d had such success in Monsoon at Christmas buying a top for the festive season, I decided to walk through Next and see if there was anything there, but ultimately end up in Monsoon and hang the expense.

I walked through Next. Not sure who they are aiming their clothes at, but certainly not women in their fifties who just want a nice top to wear out in the evening in the UK in March. There was lots of beachwear. Okay, nice if you can afford a holiday somewhere far away and hot. Lots of gym and workout wear. Hmm, shall I wear spandex to dinner? I think not. Racks of chunky knitwear leftover from winter. I don’t think so. Then racks and racks of flimsy, floaty summer dresses, skirts, and tops – none of which were suitable for a sunny but still briskly chilly day in March.

I left Next and turned left to go into Monsoon. It had gone. The doors were locked. The shop was empty, and a sign on the door informed me the nearest branch of the store could be found in Colchester – a good hour’s drive away! Not only that, but Accessorize, the fun shop next door was also gone.

So that’s two more shops gone from my local high street. It’s a worrying trend and I wonder where it will end. In ten years or so will our towns and cities have no shops at all – only endless coffee shops and charity shops? Will all shopping be done online? Now, I love online shopping for the convenience and choice it offers, but there are certain things I cannot buy online, clothes being one of them.

Like most women, I am not a standard size. Being only five feet tall means I really must hunt for things that fit correctly. A shopping trip for me usually comprises of dozens of things being taken into the changing room, a mass try-on when I look in the mirror and am brutally honest about whether an item fits and, more importantly, looks nice. Over the years, I’ve learnt what suits and what doesn’t, and I’ve also learnt the answers to the following questions:

Maybe if I lost weight? Maybe you won’t, so don’t buy it.

Maybe if I had make-up on? Nope.

Maybe with different shoes? Nope.

Unless you look in the changing room mirror and absolutely love the item – even with no make-up, the wrong shoes, and carrying a few extra pounds – then it’s a hard no.

Oh, and never go shopping when you’re in a hurry, hungry, thirsty, or need a wee. Try to avoid shopping for clothes for yourself with small children in tow – that never ends well. And don’t go shopping drunk either – that can lead to some spontaneous purchases that are either sheepishly returned the next day or hang in your wardrobe with the labels on for years until it finally goes to charity.

Stymied by the closure of the one shop I’d depended on finding something in, I wandered across to New Look and looked in there. Aimed at the younger market, it is still possible to sometimes find things that will work for us older ladies. Rummaging through the sales rack, I found a lovely silky soft, thin knit sweater top in a pearly grey colour, with three-quarter length sleeves that were slightly batwing, and a turtleneck collar. I tried it on. I still liked it. It was in the sale for £15. Bargain!

Pleased with my find, I hurried home and rummaged through my jewellery box until I found a silver and grey metal chunky necklace that was the right length with the collar and finished it off nicely. With my best black bootcut jeans and black ankle boots, I reckoned I’d do.

I had an hour or so before needing to get ready to go and collect my friend, so settled on the sofa with a drink and a book and rested from the morning’s exertions, before scrubbing up and popping around to collect her.

The delivery company have just texted me. They will deliver the new bed between 2:30pm and 4:30pm. I hope it’s the earlier end of that time slot. I want to assemble the bed and get the mattress back on today so it’s all ready for Miss F when she arrives next Wednesday. Due to overtime, I only have today and Friday off between now and then. Friday is pretty much taken up with dying my hair, my usual virtual chat with my local author’s group, and collecting an enormous shopping order of food for the twelve days Miss F is home before her girlfriend, Miss C, arrives for a visit.

Miss C is a vegetarian, so Miss F has been eating a lot of veggie food. When asked if there were any special food requests for the fortnight she’ll be home before Miss C turns up, the answer came back – MEAT! So, as requested, my shopping list has ribs, pork belly, a joint of pork with crackling, a half shoulder of lamb, sausages, prawns, bacon, chicken, burgers, meatballs, and steak! Along with lactose-free ice cream, cheese, cream, butter, and milk. Honestly, it came to three times more than my normal weekly bill!

Speaking of steak, it was my parents’ wedding anniversary last week. Happy Anniversary, Mum and Dad! They’ve been married fifty-four years – or three life sentences – so I wanted to buy them something nice but knew they didn’t want any more stuff. So, instead, I took a trip to Waitrose and got them a card, a bunch of flowers, a bottle of rose wine, two steaks, chunky chips, button mushrooms, giant beer-battered onion rings, a damn fine cherry pie, and posh vanilla custard. Have dinner on me, you’re welcome.

I know they enjoyed it because when I got home from the theatre Saturday evening there was a message on my answerphone from Mum saying how delicious it had been, so that’s nice.

Anyway, I think that’s about it for news and this blog has now reached epic proportions. The sun is shining here, and it seems Spring has decided to stay. I hope it sticks around whilst the girls are home from university as they have so much planned that’s outdoors and it’s always nicer if the sun is shining.

Take care everyone, and I look forward to our next chat in a couple of weeks.

Julia Blake