THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED.

Dunstan Times, Issue 3355, 3 January 1927, Page 8

THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED.

(By Jane Doe.) Oil, bed! oh, bed! delicious bed! , i hat heaven upon earth to the weary head. T. Hood. You’Ve heard of bed-books, of course. Well, this is a bed-article. And, though 1 say it myself, the very first of its kind. i think the most sensible person in the news is a certain gentleman in a small Uelsh town who took to his bed ou years ago, apparently suffering from an obscure complaint which completely baffled the doctors. It appears that some weeks ago he decided to arise and attend his daughter’s wedding. Bur. when all dressed up he thought better of it and got back into bed again. What a judge! It wouldn't do, of course, with the Ii.M.C. that active and vigilant, for me to set np as any authority on obscure diseases, but I. believe I’m welt acquainted with tins particular complaint, olten, indeed, suffering from manifestations oi it pretty frequently. For want ol a little Latin J call it “Aw! What’s the, use f“ it's a complaint which is peculiarly liable to attack hypersensitive and delicately constituted people like myself and the small town gentlemen, and it's at us most virulent on damp and nasty mornings when we get out of lied on the wrong side and have to eat breaklast by gaslight; when someone mis dried our damp shoes too quickly so that they’re stiff and cruel to that icnuer heel' chilblain; when we awake to greet a scowling morn with a pimple on our nose—and it’s the night of tnc staff Dinner; when it’s our turn to write to H.AI, Inspector ol Taxes foi die District (Income Tax, Schedule E); when all the down-town cars are full up with more than ordinarily offensive people—nudging, shoving, corn-kick-ing, damp, ugly people; when we're not certain whether it’s our liver, \ the cats, the quarrel we had with our bestoeloved (over nothing), or our new nat (which isn’t nearly so successlul as it ought to be, seeing the price and cliscomlort of it), that kept ns awake so many hours in the night. These arc the occasions,- speaking entirely for myself and the gentleman • wuo hasn’t got up for thirty years, when, for two pins and a small, but • regular, increment (free of tax), J'TI take lo a box-sprmg and swans’ downpillowed bed and stop there. , Lut what a beautiful lily. No boot cleaning. No having to deceive yourself that the world is noticing the fact that you are pinching that three loci into a two shoe. No clothes buying, do corset wearing. ,(Thc perfect pair ,n corsets has yet to be invented.) iiNo' stocking darning. No fashions to ! worry about save those of lied wraps, bed socks, and .(if you patronise the beastly things) boudoir caps. Nothing to wear but washing silk, nun’s veiling and rabbit wool. No inducement to waste your substance (better expended on books, pictiues and ilowerTng plants) on a gold lace evening irock, a ton-weight fur coat, or a (•snake-skin handbag. (■ No hanging about in hairuresseis in an atmosphere of hot peroxide and escaping gas for your turn to have your neck shaved. Two long plans tied with silver bows, carefully arranged in front of your crocus-mauve wrapper —what more does any woman want!-’ No jazzing about in so-called de luxe buses that have springs only suitable for a load of elephant passengers. No. St; Vitus, dancing at night-clubs and spending the next day m a dull stupor recovering from it. No, indeed. \ There would be time to give yourself a daily manicure'. Time in which to, digest your food and keep up your correspondence, .your serial reading and your crossword puzzling. Time to indulge in all those interesting new-fangled diets and cures. Time to tall your soul and your thoughts your ow-u. After all, some of the world’s most important jobs can he got througn wy'thont stirring an inch from wellpropped pillows. , * Sewing and embroidery. Book and little article writing. Pulling out ;■ first-born’s ini Ik tooth with a little cotton. Painting flowers. Looking after that schoolgirl complexion. Knitting and crochet,]ng your own bed woollies. Keeping np with the world in all its ways. What with the telephone, the many excellent magazines and weeklies, the newspapers with their daily shopping lists, the circulating libraries ■ and the wireless, you can be as well-in-formed in bed as any editor. About wireless. Now how much hotter to have earphones handy and a 1.2hour day programme than buying seats for the opera, tbc concert or the theatre, perhaps to sit next to some sweetsucking lady, some greedy man who likes both of his arm-rests, or where the actors are not audible beyond the first two rows foX .the orchestral palms. Or doing the trOaftVnill on the pianola, or turning the handle of the gramophone and putting* in fresh needles, i There is something very aggravating j about these things to an economical, j careful housewife. No one has yet. F I believe found a use for used granm- j : phone needles. And they’re so bright j and new-looking. j How wonderful, to have really lily- | white hands for once in a lifetime; to ; bo above such things as C-l os per ton [ of smoky, dud coal; to snuggle down [ into a nice warm nest what time some- i one else chases after the dinner joint they forgot to send; to he waited on hand and foot and mouth. A beautiful life. And for two pins I shall follow it up if we get any more of these daylight spent October skies. They remind me for all the world ot the complexion of a ladv after she has swum the Channel.