in search of the perfect bed Tweet

second day, second bed, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Having lived for a year in this flat already, it feels like our quest for the perfect bed takes a bit too long. The landlord had a silly, cheap divan in here that broke our backs for free night after night after night. The nth day in the row when we woke up more tired than we'd gone to bed, we had enough. The quest started the following week-end, with desperation and dedication.

We tried countless mattresses and beds in many shops down Tottenham Court Road, and ended up at John Lewis, exhausted and hopeful. There, the best mattress we could afford was special: handmade and to be delivered in eight weeks. We made the reservation payment and braced ourselves; a bed was still needed, and theirs were ugly and/ or expensive.

My long hours of online search paid off, eventually, when deciding to visit Warren Evans in Camden, as they build reasonably priced, proper wooden beds to order, deliver them within a week, install them in a few minutes and also take away the bad or dead item filling your room. On top, they're kind, sweet, and fun, and our lovely bed is guaranteed for ten years now.

Once the amazing mattress arrived—we painfully counted the nights—we had to find a way to protect it, because it's been a fortune and we expect it to last, as it should, a lifetime. We used our previous mattress cover until it drove us nuts by slipping in either direction and taking the sheets away with it. Oversize does that, so off it went, and so did we, looking for another.

The first buy, a John Lewis again, turned out to be a simple thin cotton sheet that is rather amusing than protective. That one got swapped a few days ago with a new, thicker cotton and wool mattress cover from the same shop, and while our sheets don't run away anymore, our sensitive backs are pained once more; a night did it, but we pursed our lips and had three.

It will come off, of course, and we'll sleep well, once again, on the unprotected mattress in danger of not lasting a lifetime now. Yet certainly not damaging us either. We're lost for ideas: we tried natural in all shapes and fabrics, and we can't go for anything plasticky for fear of ruining all good investment in the other, more important, elements of the story.

Meanwhile, various beds across Europe increased our horror, as not even boutique and five stars hotels know what a good bed is, or what goose feathers mean in a pillow. Yes, we are fussy, and we're ready to pay for that while away from home, hoping that as soon as we return, we'll sleep like a king and queen again. And then, we slept in five beds in Viet Nam and a sixth in Singapore.

Two beds at five stars Evason Ana Mandara & Six Sense Spa in Nha Trang, one bed at above-five-stars Six Senses Hideaway in Ninh Van Bay, one bed at simple, maybe-three-stars Heart Hotel in Ha Noi, one bed in a random, perhaps-two-stars junk (boat) floating on the South China Sea and one final bed at five-stars-methinks Mandarin Oriental. Weren't we in heaven!

Regardless of stars (or their absence), regardless of bed frames and bed stands (from wood to rattan), Asia doesn't compromise on mattresses. And that powerful, comforting memory is likely to make me cry today, when my back upsets me and we don't know what tonight or tomorrow will bring. Wishfully, a strike of inspiration if not the perfect mattress cover falling from the skies.