Open Writing

We spend about a third of our lifetime in our beds or on them, and a bit more on re-arranging them to suit our needs or perceptions.

Why do beds have to be 'made' (but not manufactured) each day before the home is ready to receive callers, or before they are inspected by someone likely to impose penalties for non-compliance with standards set for appearance?

In the Militia we had to fold our four blankets to look like four. In the A.I.F. that was wrong. You must fold your three blankets to show nine folds (and that's how the Army keeps you warm). On troopships crossing the Equator we were encouraged to sleep on deck to keep down humidity, improvising a hip hole from blankets as best we could, then beat a hasty retreat downstairs when the crew started to hose down the deck at first light. In the RAAF there was yet another system of folding blankets.

In hospitals, motels and hotels there are the most user-unfriendly beds of all, with square corners and with top sheets tucked so tightly around the mattress that it takes a tyre lever to loosen them before use. After some centuries of such tyranny there came liberation with the doona, which defies all who would prescribe how it should look.

So why have beds? Being bipeds, we would fall down when the need for sleep overcomes us, so we need a place where we can safely and comfortably rest, sleep, think or not think, either alone or in company with someone else, not always restfully. It can be a battleground between quarrelling children or between their elders and supposed betters.

In its simplest form a bed consists of a hip-hole dug to fit the contours of the hip. The hole and its surroundings are then covered by a waterproof groundsheet to serve as a barrier against moisture from the soil and some insects which live in it. In some places nets may be added to protect against air attack, for instance by the Anopheles mosquito which carries malaria. Tents at least are essential if rain is likely.

As buildings usually have flat floors in which hip holes cannot be dug, a mattress is needed with enough flexibility to suit the shape of the human body comfortably, and blankets are usually added for warmth. We usually add washable sheets to remove the build-up of perspiration.

The other component for good comfort is the pillow and its washable cover, suitably soft and flexible to suit the shape of the head and neck.

In my long life, of which I have spent about 32 years asleep, I have occupied a great variety of beds, ranging from small baskets and cots to my present bed with electric controls, kindly provided by the Department of Veterans' Affairs.

My beds were all well ventilated. Not so those bassinets made of plastic, which seemed to come into use about the same time as we began to hear of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. The micro-climate in those could be a mixture of noxious gases, all heavier than air. Starting with carbon dioxide from the infant's breath, it could also include ammonia and various compounds of sulphur, all products of infant life. My theory is lightly dismissed by the medical research people, but I have an uneasy feeling that it may not have been properly tested.

In the armed forces a pillow was usually a bag in which one stored clothes due to be washed, so it was at its best just before washing day.

In Lebanon we dug our own graves, slept in them, and got into them if there was a possible air raid in disregard of the Red Cross prominently displayed on our Main Dressing Station. We dug them only about 40 cm deep. They were no protection against a direct hit, but made us safe from 'daisy cutter' shrapnel which could fly horizontally for quite a distance around an exploding bomb.

At night we also erected mosquito nets. The Anopheles mosquito, the carrier of the malaria parasite, mainly rested during the day, and was most active at dusk and at dawn.

Next month: more about cold beds, hotbeds and strange bedfellows.

© Ken Sillcock

Ken writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au