You will recall – I am sure – the fairly recent saga of
the new sofa which we bought to replace our old sofa.
The choice at the time seemed to be ideal (indeed perfect)
but of course when it was finally delivered it proved to less efficacious than
anticipated in its endeavor to transform our lounge room into a potential Vogue
feature.
After some consideration Cate decided that was what
missing was a single additional lounge chair. This was all that was needed to
transform the current jumble of sofas into a vision of style and comfort.
So we ordered the chair last November and – things being
what they are and the fact that the chair was coming from Denmark – apparently
by Donkey cart – it arrived today.
For the price we paid I would have thought it could have
its own first class seat on Lufthansa – but there we are.
As expected – at least by me – it does not work – and in
fact is apparently entirely unsuitable.
Cate is struggling to imagine what she was thinking of at
the time when she chose it to go with our new sofa. She stands and stares at it
with wonder.
Apart from all the other factors – there is no where to
put it - so it stands in isolation at
the side of the lounge suite – looking to all intents and purposes like the
Bell Rock lighthouse – but padded - and with four legs.
This entirely unexpected event is one of a number of
similar furnituresque tragedies that have befallen our household over many
years.
Cate is planning on solving the problem by hiding the
lounge chair in one of the bedrooms – or consigning it to the basement - which already
contains enough old furniture to outfit Downton Abbey.
Beaten temporarily – but unbowed – she will shortly emerge
from a brief furniture induced funk to plan the next acquisition which - I regret to say - is unlikely to have the desired result – but will
continue a long – arduous and expensive tradition of keeping the world’s
furniture makers solvent.
