I am sure that your eye has been caught by the riveting title of this post and wondering what on earth I am going to be writing about. Well, the clue is in the title, it IS a rant about a sofa bed, no more no less, so if you feel this is not for you then fare thee well
OK for those diehards who are sticking with me, here goes....
As I live in a one bed-roomed apartment I have always had a sofa bed for the odd visitor and about six years ago I bought a rather lovely super duper one. It has been regularly used and when I bought a new bed for myself about eighteen months ago and had a week in between the dismantling of one and the arrival of another, used the sofa bed myself. It was in the winter so it was quite cosy in the evenings, I got it out early and popped into it with a cup of tea and the remote and had a fun time.
But anno domini and age creeps up and I have found it increasingly difficult to pull out the mechanism and erect the bed without threatening to do my back in so decided to get a smaller one which I did. So I ring up my favourite charity Emmaus, who look after homeless people and are wonderful, to see if they could take it away but it seems their warehouses are stuffed with sofas at the moment so they could not take it. I then spoke to the local Hospice who could not come and collect it for a month. As my new one was arriving in a week or so no way could I leave it. So I ring up another charity who said Yes they would be pleased to have it but could I check to Fire labels etc. I said yes I did and there it was. Ah but you need to check the mattress as well says he.
I will call you back says I.
So I haul the bed out with great difficulty and spotted the necessary label. Call back, give details, all OK they will come and get in a few days.
Two blokes duly arrive and start examining the sofa and do that whistling between the teeth thing which drives me mad, ooh not sure we can take this. Why not? The fire labels are not enough. What do you mean not enough? There is one on the sofa, one on the mattress, aah but there isn't one on the cover. OK take the cover off then. Oh can't do that we won't be able to sell it. They flatly refused to take it and off they marched. Got my own back as one of them who stunk to high heaven and was in dire need of a shower, was told by me that might be a good idea if he stopped off at the chemist on the corner and bought a deodorant. Yes, I know snide and childish but I felt snide and childish. I had to open the windows after he had gone to clear the air.
To cut a long story short I arranged for the Council to collect it for which I had to pay £41.41. Why the extra 41p I pondered. I was told it had to be outside the property waiting for them so my lovely neighbours came in to help me get it out. Nightmare. In the end we had to tackle the nuts and bolts and take the bed mechanism out to the danger of life and limb and then cart it out where it resided on the lawn outside adding to the charm and ambience of our gardens.
Anyway, it has gone. Collected this morning and chucked into the gaping maw of a huge rubbish crusher. Excruciating shrieks of metal and grinding as it was reduced to dust.
I am so angry that this good piece of furniture which was in excellent condition and WAS fire retardant and in good nick had to be wrecked because of so called bloody Health and Safety. Charity shops are also getting sniffy about donations and I have had good stuff turned down for no reason. I have spent all my life living with second hand furniture, my children dressed in hand me downs and clothes from jumble sales (around where I used to live there were a lot of Yummy Mummies around so we got good stuff) and I was very happy and grateful to do so.
I suppose we live in a throw away society now but this whole episode has made me very cross.
