So...my bed broke

I'm feeling blue today. And in an effort to cheer myself up, I shall relate the woes of my bed instead. Or should that be bedstead?

Picture the scene...

A winter's morning (last Thursday). Snuggly buggly under the duvet as it's still dark despite the alarm driving home the idea that it's actually 7.30. With a sigh, I sit up and start to swing my legs out of bed, when...

KEEERRRRR-AAASH!

The right side of the bed (my side) suddenly falls southward with me, naturally, following it, and Danny clinging on for dear life as the mattress is now tilting at a 25 degree angle.

"Oh my goodness gracious me. This is a to-do, isn't it dear?" (or words to that effect).

The little ledge which holds the slats which hold the mattress had broken completely free from the bedframe. Now, this is not a new bed - indeed it was second-hand when we gratefully received it from my first cousin...and she'd had it for a number of years, and we have now been married for over 7. It simply appears that our marital divan had come to the end of its natural life and had dramatically given up the ghost.

And no, the bed did not break because we were both on the same side of it engaging in rumpety-pumpy, which is what I was accused of amid gales of giggling at the South Wales Crop last Saturday (despite the fact that I threatened to bar the lot of them). At least it happened when I was conscious...can you imagine if I'd turned over in my sleep... there would have been legs all a kimbo and it all being rather distressing to say the least.

So anyway... now we're sleeping on a mattress on the floor (I feel like a wanton student). However, strangely enough, both Danny and I have remarked that we're both finding the floor mattress more comfortable than our bed ever was, and I always hated the shape of the headboard anyway. Every cloud, as they say...