Dead Man's Bed

Saturday 17th February

We’ve given up on the garage sales. Darren went to one in Vaucluse this morning to buy a bed and washing machine and returned with a glass fruit bowl. It’s just the ticket for displaying mangoes, but we can’t wash our socks in it.

The bowl came from a dead lady’s flat, which is mildly disturbing, but not as disturbing as the thought of buying her bed. Last weekend we bought a desk from a newly-widowed woman in Clovelly. She was also selling a queen-sized bed for $350. “I don’t need it since Frank died – not in the bed, in hospital – but it’s too big for me”. She was desperate for us to take it and came running across the road as we were leaving, reminding us about the orthopaedic mattress. We said we’d think about it but as soon as we drove away I said I wasn’t having a dead man’s bed, whether he’d expired in it or not. Darren thought it was a bargain. “That mattress would be good for your back”, but all I could picture was the outline of a dead man marked in white police chalk and the image stayed with me.

A week on, with no bed on the horizon, I tentatively suggested another trip to Ikea. Darren still thought we’d be better with the dead man’s divan, so we rang her back. The bed was still for sale, but the price had gone up to $450 because she was including a lambswool mattress protector. “But we don’t want a lambswool cover” we protested. “We just want a bed. It’s too hot for lambswool, we don’t need it”. She wasn’t budging, so we let it drop. I’m not arguing the toss over a bed I don’t want to buy.

By 2pm today we’d bought a fridge and a washing machine from a dealer in Kingsford. Most of the washing machines in Australia are great big chunky top-loaders, which remind me of the machines in my hall of residence at university, where you put two pound coins into the sliding slot and hoped for the best. They never really got the clothes clean and you could never smell the washing powder after the clothes were dry, but that went with the territory of being a student.

From what I could see of the washers in the shop, they had a “hot” and “cold” setting and three programmes along the lines of “wash”, “soak” and “shrink”. As Ella had fallen asleep in the car, we couldn’t go into the shop together, so having agreed to Darren’s choice of fridge, I also left the washing machine to his discretion. On Tuesday they will deliver a washing machine I’ve never seen.

This evening the bed widow phoned us back to offer the bed for $450 including sheets and pillowcases. She must have traced our number through the Australian 1471 service. Since we spoke to her we’ve paid $190 for a bed from an Irish couple up the road, so she still has the bed for sale. Good luck to her.