Bedrooms

My bedroom was the room below the attic, shared with my other sister. It was a normal rectangle but had the distinction of being a pass-through room or a corridor, as this was also where the family bathroom was, in the far corner in the alcove created by the attic stairs. The only space in a house built in the 1830's that could accommodate this after thought of indoor plumbing.

The lack of privacy that we had by people constantly coming through to the bathroom was not helped by our bedroom door being left open, making this door a superficial barrier at best. You couldn't stop people from using the bathroom, or as dad would call it doing your ablutions. This was a necessity and strangely enough this loose behavior with our bedroom door was the same with the bathroom door and even though the bathroom was small we would often leave the door open, sliding the pocket door so you could sit on the toilet to the side and look down along the wall of our bedroom to see who was coming and be able to shout
"I'm using the loo!" as if that wasn't patently obvious as you sat there.
The proximity and intimacy of family was ever present. For me and my sister who shared this bedroom we felt constantly observed. That said we were also the ones who saw everything from our vantage point of our beds! And we would lie there watching the comings and goings along this highly trafficked corridor in our room, as people walked the full length of it to the bathroom.

Our beds were on opposite sides of the room, divided by the chimney breast. At one time these beds had been bunk beds on top of each other, but that didn't last long as we would fight all the time, the one underneath annoying the one on top and vice versa. It was decided that the bunk beds would be separated and they would be put individually on the floor. With the natural barrier of the chimney breast making a shallow alcove for a bed to be placed giving the illusion of space around it, this was our territory and ours alone. At the foot of the beds was the corridor for the traffic of the family to pass through, making their way to the bathroom

In our bedroom there were many items in boxes that belonged to others and with little storage, cats, a dog and a mother who was very happy to leave our space to us meant that this was a messy space. It was only tidied by my sister who shared the space with me who in a rare moments of truce would tidy my side too an act of altruism, as she knew I had no skills to do this myself, my bed piled high with bedding, a dressing gown laid on top for additional warmth and assorted stuffed toys. The mess was considerable. Most of the time the straying into the others territory was met with yelling, screaming, fighting and flipping of the other ones mattress, bedding and clothes that had been on top pooling onto the floor. I think both my sister and I loved to jump on the others bed as soon as it was made in the ultimate wind up move and thus driving the recipient of this behavior up the wall and then there would be more yelling and screaming and mum shouting
"Will you two be quiet!" normally from her own bedroom over the landing.

In other rare peacetime moments we would take the small white painted chest of drawers and place it in the neutral zone between the beds and play shop or whilst lying in our beds loop yarn around the redundant bunkbed posts on the corners of our beds and set up a pulley system with a small basket with notes in it. It seemed a huge adventure our bedroom and the possibilities of play here were endless. That it was a small space and oft visited just added to this. You could always hide in the small cubby hole between the very bottom of the attic stairs and the back wall of the bathroom. Being there unobservered you could lie in wait for an unsuspecting visitor...as they padded past and if you timed it right you could BOO OUT and scare them. This was a favorite pastime of mine and caused my dad many heart attacks.

As a pre teen I developed this booing out into a specialised skill, I would creep up the carpeted cottage stairs to our bedroom, on these occasions the door would be closed as my sister was revising,I would slowly and silently turn the handle. As I opened the door I would yell "BOO", making my sister jump and papers would go everywhere from her desk as she lept up startled

"I'm going to get you"

she would yell as I legged it down the cottage stairs and out through the porch and into the garden. I never tired of doing this. These were the early teenage years and the times of animosity. Mostly the shared bedroom was a place for imagination to run wild and the items in our bedroom take on new and fantastic roles.

Influenced by the TV of the time, I had decided that my curtain over my window could be used like a liana that tarzan swings through the jungle on. I clambered onto the arm of the old over stuffed chair below the window, grabbed the curtain and swung through my imaginary jungle shrieking but this turned into a wail, as the screws holding the rail into the wall which was damp, crumbling plaster gave out, not being able to hold both me and the curtain. I landed onto the chair and rolled onto the floor in a huge mess, the curtain hanging on the now half detached rail and all the soft toys I had had piled on the old chair about me like debris.

Of course my antics didn't stop there, there was a wardrobe in the bedroom on my side of the room that had a mirrored door. To my young eyes this wasn't a piece of innocuous furniture but this was the way to another world. Having been a big reader when I was young, the books by CS Lewis The Lion the Witch and Wardrobe definitely elevated this bedroom furniture to the way to Narnia and I would climb up and into the wardrobe sitting inside. But this wardrobe had a thick mirrored door and when left open created a dangerous and top heavy piece of furniture

"Will you get out of there. You will be trapped in there!!!"

This mum would yell and I would be yanked out off my cushioned seat made of pillows and not understanding how little imagination she could have! But she had enough insight to visualise the wardrobe tipped forward and lying on my exit!

The flights of fancy and imaginations that we had were very much encouraged with books readily available and a mobile library to visit weekly. Once my sister and I were settled in bed we would yell to our dad below in the living room

"Dad-deeeee! Time to come up now!"

this would be a unison of young voice, sing songing over and over again and eventually dad summoned would appear smiling and walking with big strides to the place on the floor between the beds

"Right, where did we get to?"

he would stretch his long legs out in front of him and open the book and his sonorous voice would send us to sleep. Chaos bickering and shouting forgotten, our room that was never still would diminish and we would be lost to more dreaming and imagining.