The wooden bedstead had been in the family for more generations than anyone knew. Almost as long as the rambling farmhouse which each generation had rebuilt and extended to suit its needs.
The bedstead had been the place where family members had been conceived, come into this world and eventually left it. The old stained oak headboard bore the marks of usage like proud scars.
But all things change eventually.
The latest generation thought the old bedstead too chunky, dark and unfashionable. So they replaced it with a stylish pine bed from Ikea – and had a bonfire in the garden.
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Very sad. A metaphor on our modern society.
In our house, the old oak bed would be disassembled and stored in a back corner of the basement. Years later, in a fit of cleaning, we’d haul it out to give it away. But unable to because some key pieces of hardware had gone missing.
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