No shared beds for us please, we’re middle class

I

recently discovered I am a deviant in the bedroom. Not for any wildly exciting or outlandish reason, but because I share a bed with my husband of 15 years.

At a dinner in Oxfordshire with four girlfriends — married, in their forties — one casually referred to retiring to “her” bedroom in the evenings. What? You don’t share a bed, I asked in my innocence. “What?” retorted everyone else in unison. “You do?”

I reeled. Surely this is the sole preserve of aristocratic types? “The upper class always have had separate bedrooms,” Lady Pamela Hicks once declared. Since she was a lady-in-waiting to Queen Elizabeth II and first cousin to Prince Philip, we can consider her a reliable arbiter. “You don’t want to

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