That's men for you:Counsellors can get a little too pious for their own good sometimes, especially when they put pen to paper. I am no exception to this rule.
Last week, when writing about couples sleeping in separate beds, I intoned that "sleeping apart in this way symbolises a loss of closeness which cannot be replicated outside the bedroom".
I take it all back.
What changed my mind was this response from Patricia, a lady given to jumping out of wardrobes and, I suspect, swinging from lampshades and all thanks to separate rooms:
"Having shared a bed with my husband for the first 15 years of our marriage, I never, despite every effort on his part, got a night's sleep - the usual reasons: snoring, breaking wind, kicking, talking in his sleep, taking the duvet, etc.
"We came to an arrangement, after a long discussion, to have separate rooms. Now we both sleep when we want, read when we want, look at television . . . listen to radio - no fighting over the station,or snoring, farting, eating, drinking, we go to bed when we want, with no lights suddenly being put on, etc, etc, etc.
"We also have a very intimate relationship and surprise each other in our little funny ways - jumping out of wardrobes and so on - a lot more exciting than what we had when we shared a bed.
"Think again, and tell all those suffering women, and a few men perhaps, that life and relationships go on when you take the step towards separate bedrooms.
"Encourage them to give it a try and I bet any money they will not go back to the old ways.
"I firmly believe you get what you put into a relationship and everyone has to work to keep the fun and intimacy alive."
Well, in the light of that, I have to admit that my rather stuffy contention that sleeping apart "symbolises a loss of closeness" has had to bite the dust. Do I hear the sound of hammer and saw as bedroom extensions are built all across the land? Yes, I suspect I do! And don't forget to put in good, big wardrobes for jumping out of.
Last week's article also mentions snoring as a source of conflict between couples sharing the same bed. However, a Kerry reader, Mary, writes to say that to her, as a child, snoring became the most comforting sound in the world.
Later on, it was a godsend when she was sneaking into the house late from dances.
"My late father was a terrific snorer and my late mother a light sleeper. They shared a bed and it is a tribute to love and romance that Mum rarely had a decent night's sleep with her husband blissfully snoring his head off beside her.
"We children loved the snoring. It was the most comforting sound if you woke up from a nightmare . . . first the nightmare, then the sudden waking . . . the silence and the dark and then the blissful sound reverberating through the house. You were safe and sound and put yourself back to sleep to the rhythm of the snores.
"The snoring was most useful during the length of my misspent youth in which my father was alive. Sneak in the front door . . . listen . . . then, when the snoring started, take a few steps of the stairs. A pause in the snoring meant a pause on the stairs and so on until you were safely in bed. Mother could never hear anything while Father was snoring.
"To this day, to me, it is one of the most comforting sounds in the world . . . a lullaby in fact."
Take that, all you anti-snorers out there.
But back to separate bedrooms. When I suggested to Patricia that to have one's spouse lepping out of the wardrobe when you're on the way to bed might be disturbing, she replied: "Believe me when I tell you women like surprises in the bedroom. No matter what age, spice up your relationship but unless you have a very secure light fitting don't swing from the shade!"
Mmmmmm. Separate rooms anybody?
Padraig O'Morain's blog on men's issues, Just Like A Man, is at www.justlikeaman.blogspot.com