Two days ago I posted about a rather traumatic night when I set fire to my bed. I’m sorry to say that it hasn’t been my only bedtime disaster. I’m beginning to think it might not have been the best idea to theme this challenge with sleeping arrangements.
In 2006 I moved to the city of Aberdeen, where I rented a ground floor flat. One evening I was in the kitchen in my pyjamas preparing a bedtime snack, when I heard an almighty thundering crash. It sounded as if it had come from the flat upstairs, but what had caused it I couldn’t guess.
I left the kitchen and went to my front door. I looked up into the stairwell to the floor above, but there was no sign of any disturbance coming from there. Back in my flat, feeling puzzled and a little shaken by the strangely explosive noise, I opened my bedroom door. Expecting to see my welcoming bed all ready for me to hop back into, I was astonished and horrified by what I saw. The room was littered with dust and debris, including heavy lumps of plaster that had fallen from the ceiling onto my bed.
Before that night I hadn’t realised old plaster was so thick and heavy. The bits that landed on my bed and floor were like thin slabs of concrete with painted wallpaper stuck to them. If the ceiling had collapsed only a little later it would have fallen directly onto yours truly, no doubt resulting in injuries of some sort.
That night I slept on a makeshift bed fashioned from sofa cushions laid on the floor of the livingroom. I placed these under the dining table due to nervousness about being squashed by the ceiling in the night. I’m pleased to say that the livingroom ceiling remained intact and I moved out of that flat as soon as I could.