When I was a child I longed for a captain’s bed several feet up from the floor at the end of a ladder.
My wish didn’t come true until many years later working at sea, where there were beds that were quite similar to the one I had dreamed of as a tot.
On one particular boat I was given a single cabin of quite extraordinary design. There was one narrow berth in the room, positioned at a curiously high point, like a big shelf sticking out of the wall. I really don’t know why it was so high up, because the space beneath it was only good for storage and the bed could easily have been lower down.
It was too high for me to climb straight from the floor into the bed and there was no ladder supplied. There was, however, a desk on the other side of the room which proved invaluable. If I scrambled up onto the desk I could launch myself into the bed from there. The whole business was made all the more challenging by the bed being so close to the ceiling that I had to enter and exit the bed semi-horizontally to avoid bouncing my bonce on the ceiling. More than once at the start of the trip I woke up forgetting how close the ceiling was and nutted myself unintentionally.
After a while I perfected the art of getting in and out of bed without injuring any part of my person, and I must say I quite enjoyed the sheer eccentricity of the routine.