The Burning Bed : The Back Bedroom

Time and Place: Morning in bed in the back bedroom at Mum's

I am in the back bedroom of my Mum's 1960's semi-detached house, which overlooks the long (at the moment frost-covered) back garden to Cove Brook and Blunden Road Park beyond. I shared this room with my sister from 1965 to 1980, when I left for college in Northampton (or Uni as I would be able to call it now). We could see the brook and the park years ago, but the leylandii planted by the builders grew. I can now just about see the craggy-flowing willows and the wild banks of the brook, as Mum has finally cut her vast giants down.

By the end of the 1970's our bedroom had shocking purple-flowered walls and a deep purple carpet. We had matching single beds, wardrobe and dresser each with a white fluffy covered stool. Before that it was bunk-beds where we used to rumble with our brother. Okay, we used to hold him down and pull his hair and pretend to spit on him. We always opened our pillow cases at the bottom of the beds on Christmas Day. As teenagers there was a hiding place under the purple carpet for unrequited love secrets. We sometimes shared each other's beds and cried a lot. There followed a few years of painfully hating each other, until we left home had children and became friends.

Since we left, the bedroom has been occupied by various people. Mum always had relatives staying - short-term, long-term etc. Uncle David calls it the 'Grattan Inn.' Our bedroom is now no longer purple, but a discreet peachy colour and is the main guest room. It is the room I stayed in after I had my twin boys in 1986, before we moved into our own place. I was the original boomerang kid after college – I still am.

My Grandma died of 'old age' in this room in 1995. She was here in her last ninety third year. It was a Saturday and she was watching the rugby on the TV with Mum and her partner. They had all just finished a nice cup of tea when, in half-time, she went upstairs while Mum cleared the cups. She never came down for the second half. She had laid on the bed in our room and died. She sat on the edge of the bed, lay backwards on the bed, arms above her head and was gone.

Mum's brother later stayed in this room when he was seriously ill after collapsing during a diabetic attack. He was a confirmed bachelor and eminent biologist - a real boffin, discovering some new type of plankton, but he didn't look after himself. He died a few weeks later, in hospital, no not in the bed in the back room.

Downstairs there have been many a family 'do' over the years since 1965 and many events, happy and sad, as you would expect in a family home of nearly fifty years. Uncle Stel (Mum's partner – another long story, he really was my uncle once!) died at the end of 2002, no not in the bedroom or the bed. It was a different bed by now.

I boomeranged back in 2005 when I sold my house after my husband died of a brain tumour in 2003. There was me, Dad (Mum and Dad were divorced in 1981!), three kids, and three cats. We moved out three months later into the new house round the corner (minus one dead cat).

Another 'family member' stayed here in our room when they were poorly a few years ago, but I won't say who as said person doesn't like me to talk about it in public. Suffice to say it involved some tricky debacle which included various conversations regarding suitable methods of ending it all.

Then I moved back again with my new husband when I re-married in 2009 and sold-up again, (minus two dead cats and a now deceased Dad). After a disastrous attempt to live a new life in southern Spain, with new hubby, while still in the throws of a humongous depressive relapse, I am well and truly back.

Now I just boomerang backwards and forwards, as we pretty much live here at Mum's – on and off – it's a long story. Still married and have gained my very 'guapo' (handsome) rescued Spanish cross German Shepherd dog, Alfie- no cats as last cat died at the grand age of seventeen or something, while resident at Mum's following my previous departure to sunny Spain.

So here I am, in the bed that isn't the bed that Grandma died on, in 'my' back bedroom, at Mum's, where all sorts has gone on over the years, writing this first post for my new blog. Now why you may ask is a fifty-plus married woman doing in the spare room at her Mother's? Well I seemed to have succumbed to some mysterious virus since I had a routine injection in my back at the new day surgery unit at the local hospital nearly three weeks ago. So here I am in my sick-bed while hubby stays with Alf at our static caravan (will tell you all about that another time).

So what does one do when confined to house due to flu-like illness symptoms - create and compose one's blog of course - oh, and write.

So drop in now and then and see how I'm getting on with my book and other stuff....

Photo of Alfie rescued by Pam and George in Spain in 2010. We think he was a New Year Pup. This is Alfie in April 2010. We couldn't say no now could we......