Bad Memory

My bed is the most comfortable sleep in the world (claimed Ford, reasoning that, in a Berkeleyan sense, we all perceive our own personal worlds. In his, he knew no better sleep). Anyone doubting this hard fact should email me for an appointment.

My mattress has no springs. (A rusty spring under a college dorm bed scarred me for life aged sixteen, but that's a story for another day.) It has little compartments of memory foam so you can move around and your cup o' Java sitting one foot away won't spill. The "memory" part describes how the mattress moulds to the contours of your body over time, like the memory cloth from Batman Begins.

The downside is that I sleep alone at least five nights a week so there's a me-shaped groove down the middle of the bed that I can't turn off when I have company. Two people trying to sleep on either side of this valley will inevitably end up rolling together in the centre. On second thoughts, it's not really a downside at all.