The premise of this book is that everyday objects and spaces matter. We, as individuals and as a society, are shaped by our everyday surroundings. In late medieval England, a society in which chambers and even beds were still a rarity, such objects and spaces left imprints in its literary, artistic and pragmatic productions. They affected the ways in which people understood less tangible subjects such as marriage, trust, communication, politics and God, which in turn affected how they used and thought about their own beds and chambers. For this reason, this book presents these higher concepts within a framework of the everyday. I have not covered every function or meaning of the bed and chamber (if such a feat were even possible). For instance, I have not touched on the bed's perceived role in death and dying, though it is a subject in need of more research. This book is about late medieval life; death will just have to wait.

I am grateful to the editorial board of York Medieval Press and Boydell & Brewer, for this opportunity and for their support and patience. I am also indebted to Mark Ormrod and Nick Perkins, for their careful reading and invaluable comments. Thanks are due to the Arts and Humanities Research Council for providing the funding to support the early stages of this project. Thanks also to the British Library, the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, the Bibliothèque Mazarine and Ian Coulson for allowing me to use their images. I am also indebted to Ian Coulson for allowing me to examine the ‘Paradise Bed’ and to Jonathan Foyle for sharing his unpublished research with me.

As our surroundings shape ourselves and our productions, this book is a product of my environment. In particular, its sources and interdisciplinary methodology reveal my York doctoral upbringing. Without the support, guidance and patience of Nicola McDonald and Jeremy Goldberg this book would never have been written and I remain eternally grateful. Others have indirectly shaped this book's production: Orietta Da Rold taught me to question everything and the voice in my head asking ‘What are the implications?' will always be hers; Monica Manolescu encouraged the pursuit of ’surprising connections’ when I was an undergraduate and Natasha Hill, my GCSE English teacher, first showed me the value of studying (rather than just reading) books.