THERE S no place like home, they say, and a special place in that home is the bed. After all, it s where we spend an average of a third of our lives. Some like them so soft that they sink into them, others prefer a more rigid construction designed to give

THERE'S no place like home, they say, and a special place in that home is the bed.

After all, it's where we spend an average of a third of our lives.

Some like them so soft that they sink into them, others prefer a more rigid construction designed to give support to the backbone.

Whichever you prefer, if you have found a bed which is just right for you, then you are a lucky person.

It must have been muttered many times, "Ah, that's better" when people return from an adventure and hit the home sack again.

So there's the special bed - but how many people realise how many different beds they occupy in their lifetimes?

A new survey uncovers some fascinating facts.

It sounds about right that the average person buys eight new beds in all - costing a total of more than £6,000 - before heading off for the Great Snooze in the Sky.

But we don't spend all of our time in them, of course.

It may come as a surprise to learn that Brits slip into an average of 818 beds in their time on Earth.

Researchers come up with the figure by taking into account new beds bought, hotels and other accommodation on holiday - a generous four trips a year each person they reckon - business trips, staying over with friends, plus one-night stands (10 of those before marriage, they calculate, although they don't `speculate on how many after the happy day).

The survey also came up with the finding that men will keep bed sheets for up to a staggering eight years, while women regularly change their sheets or duvet every two or three years.

I presume they mean changing for new rather than changing for washing.

Moving out from the bedroom and into the garage, I must admit that my interest in cars stretches to them having four wheels and going from A to B and back without breaking down.

So I am constantly amazed at the enormous amount of attention - even love - that some men lavish on their motors.

While some look forward to getting busy with chamois leather and soapy suds on a Sunday morning, I leave that duty to the rain.

I resent paying out anything on my car, so it astonishes me that there are some who will lash out fortunes on such irrelevancies as personalised registrations, or cherished numbers as they have come to be known.

The late, flamboyant Tory politician Sir Gerald Nabarro - whose walrus moustache was so distinctive that the image was used by the Monty Python team - popularised the passion getting on for half a century ago, snapping up NAB1, NAB2, NAB3 etc at bargain prices.

Then it was all private dealing but the DVLA finally cottoned on that there was money to be made from this and began flogging off desirable plates from new.

Just how profitable was demonstrated on Saturday at the latest auction when a plate - 51 NGH - went for a record £254,000, beating the previous best of £231,000 for K1 NGS set 15 years ago.

The man who bought RU55 ELL for £78,500 may put it on his new Rolls Royce. Says it all, doesn't it?