And So to Bed...

Last night I fell out of bed. Being of mature years and  -- shall we say --generous proportions, nothing much was hurt except my pride, but the experience got me to thinking about Italian beds. They are 30 inches wide. An American single bed is 39 inches. An Italian single bed is 30. You can't turn over in an Italian single bed without falling out of it.

To make a double or what they call "matrimonial" bed, the Italians push two thirty inch beds together and stretch double sheets across them. It must work for them because I see lots of Italian babies around.  But my ever inquisitive author's mind can't help but wonder how they manage. If they use the two beds pushed together, someone is going to be uncomfortably over the crack in the bed. If they opt to use only one bed -- one 30 inch bed -- there are only three positions I can think of that would not involve one or the other of them falling out of bed. And those three are all rather dull positions. I can't imagine the passionate, immaginative Italians being satisfied with them.

Of course we all know a bed is not absolutely essential to love making. There are planes, trains and automobiles. There are coat closets and shower stalls, sofas, desk tops and even elevators if you know how to stop them between floors. And there are beaches. In The Memory of Roses I had Brit and Andreas make love for the first time on a beach on Corfu in the moonlight. Romantic? Yes and no. To be highly romantic it had to be spontaneous--but comfortable, I hope Andreas brought along a blanket. You do NOT want sand in some of those places.

But back to Italian beds. I can't say for sure how Italians manage, but in the interest of scientific and literary research I feel I should do some investigating. I'll let you know what I find out.

Written in Sirmione, LakeGarda, Italy
10 October 2011