The bloke from Dreams finally came around this morning to ( fix the bed. )
One drawer was broken but fixable with some judicious hammer blows and a compressor-powered staple gun (which is probably how it was made in the first place). The other was quite unambiguously broken into bits, and someone will be round with a replacement in a couple of weeks.
And
arkady and I finally got to do the dance of the bed base, with a particularly flopsy eight hundred quid mattress. We found the workmanship, uh, breathtaking; truly, there are no limits to their attention to detail. A few judicious hammer blows, screwdriver leverings and (in one case) opening out a hole they hadn't bothered drilling all the way through later and we got it together. You know how your parents' bed always seemed to be the biggest bed ever, bigger than the room, you needed a stepladder to get into it and you didn't know how anyone could make beds so good? We have one of those now. It is ( the bed as big as a boat. )
The estate agent called to say the landlord would be around to fix stuff tomorrow, so we have to get the house tolerably tidy in a hurry. Or not get stuff fixed. Yay.