The story about the bunk beds

I can’t believe I’d never told hubby the story about the bunk beds. Last night we were in hysterics about it, so I thought I’d share the story with you…

Like a lot of siblings, when my sister and I were little we had bunk beds. At some point my parents decided we could have our own rooms and the bunk beds were separated into two beds. My sister had the smaller room because I am older and therefore more important, requiring more space for my infinite wisdom. She had one of those cool beds where the bed is like the top of a bunk bed and there was a desk underneath so she had some more floor space. The frame was red and the ladder was red. So. Cool.

Now, my dad likes doing DIY, decorating and building things. Or at least I think he likes them, because he does them quite a lot. I remember when we were very young, helping dig foundations for the extension on our house and there are photos of me copying my dad painting a wall. Anyway, my sister’s room was next to the stairs and there was a big, unused space above the stairs. So my dad knocked through and built my sister a bed above the stairs. Just to be clear, you couldn’t see her in bed when you walked down stairs or anything, it was all patched up so you’d never know her bed was right above you. It was such a good use of space. He built a desk into the wall under the bed so she had even more floor space. And she still used that red ladder.

When I was about 16, our parents decided it was time to get us new mattresses. I distinctly remember the day they arrived and my mattress wouldn’t fit on my bed. Why not? Because I was still sleeping in my bunk bed. Yes, a child’s bunk bed. How did this go amiss?! So my mattress was duly sent back. My sister’s bed had been made in single bed size so her mattress was fine but I had to have a different one.

There are many questions that could be asked about this tale:

When did I stop sleeping in a child’s bunk bed? Aged 19. I thought the bed I had in college at university was quite roomy compared to my bed at home.
Why did I never get a bigger bed? Because I still fit in the little bed so why waste money buying a bigger one. And, despite sounding jealous of my sister’s cool red bed and the one my dad built, I probably didn’t kick up much fuss about my bed.

And finally, why am I 6 inches shorter than my younger sister? Some people say it’s genes, I’m inclined to think it’s beds.

Note: I love my parents very much!


One thought on “The story about the bunk beds”

  1. Update to this story – apparently the bunk beds were my dad’s and he slept in one of the beds until he was 19, too. Coincidence that the ‘short’ genes come from his side of the family, or did they just sleep in beds that were too small for them?

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