by Lena Green
a satisfying cappuccino with chocolate sprinkles
I knew it was going to happen because it always did. That knowing nagging voice as I go to bed, telling me, ‘At some stage during the night, you’re going to wake up cold’.
For me, this ‘cold bum’ no duvet scenario is not caused by some high octane out-of-this world libertine extravaganza, or by some clumsy teenage romp. Unfortunately, not! It’s simply the result of two medium-sized, middle-of-the-road people, under a king-size quilt, one of whom with every twist and turn, takes the entire duvet with them. Oh yes! You say: you’ve heard it all before.
But after years of shall we say ‘almost’ silent acquiescence, to quote the immortal Baldrick, I now have a ‘cunning plan’. My comeuppance may only work for one night – but gee! That one night will be such bliss!
For by the marvels of modern science I have programmed the front doorbell to mysteriously, and uncontrollably ring at 2.13 am (at the hour when my bum is at its coldest). Upon which, if I predict correctly, the one of us who considers themselves more courageous with dealing with unexpected middle-of-the-night scenarios, will, eventually, stir. They will look at me feigning deep sleep, then go to investigate.
In their absence, with the uncontrollable greed of a five-year-old with a bag of sweets, with gusto beyond limitation, I shall grab every conceivable bit of the duvet. Thereupon I shall tuck all of it tightly, oh so very tightly, round myself and wallow, centre bed, snugly cocooned within a wealth of feathers.
When the other one of us returns, cold from the January blast they encountered as they investigated the random ringing of the doorbell, they will stand and stare. Stare dumbfounded at the new bed-duvet arrangement – an arrangement that clearly now (oh! so sadly) leaves no room for them!
I will chuckle silently as I hear their hurt, grumpy, defeated footsteps heading for the guest room – to shiver in the small, single bed, with its child-sized Noddy duvet.
And I shall sleep, warm bottom included, blissfully on. My pleasure may only be short lived, but what satisfying retribution to know that revenge is a dish best served cold.