And so the Seymours’ Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Furniture has been born.
The Society’s beginnings were subtle – unwanted furniture from around the land would stealthily wend its way to the Funny Little Bungalow. When all other doors were closed, the Seymours found room at the inn for woodwormy 30s wardrobes, wobbly old pine desks with no knobs on and sofas aplenty.
We are currently offering refuge to umpteen sideboards, and the hospital wing is full, with patients requiring all kinds of treatment from simple hinge oiling to new bottoms.
In the true nature of a charitable organisation,we have been sourcing equipment on the cheap, to help these poor specimens efficiently. I have discovered that Brewers do a lovely range of rejected paints, that will rejuvenate some of our more tired-looking cases. (If they don’t mind being coral or peach in their next life, that is.)
We do have a slight problem, though…
When Big Seymour comes home from work and opens up the doors of his van, heralding the arrival of a dusty, maltreated chest of drawers, I roll my eyes.
If I return from my travels with a drop-leaf, ornate-legged table that just happens to have been painted pink and decal-ed to within an inch of its life, he rolls his eyes.
When I acquired four little school chairs and the formica-topped tables to match, he despaired.
And on the occasion when he did a spot of skip diving, and pulled cupboard door after cupboard door after cupboard door out of his vehicle to show me, I was equally at a loss.
Let’s face it, we both like to be in control of the crap we collect. My idea of beauty might not be his, and vice versa. But this thing can’t afford to snowball out of control. Because where on EARTH are we supposed to put the stuff?
It’s getting a bit ridiculous.
We have oak television stands, numerous tables, standard lamps and bath tubs. We’ve got dressing tables, mis-matched bedside cabinets and even old sewing boxes on legs. There are wheel-backed, paint-spattered dining chairs, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and then, there are the desks.
Don’t get me wrong – I hate to see things wasted, and we love a bargain – all of this stuff was free. But what will it all actually look like together in The Funny Little Bungalow when I am trying to go for “a theme”, and feng sui the place? Is “eclectic mix of eras and styles” an accepted manner in which to dress a modern home? I guess we are going to find out.
The other day, something happened that proved, however, that Big Seymour and I are not really at odds when it comes to our furniture mission. We heard of a dresser in need – it was heading quickly towards the blades of a chainsaw through no fault of its own. After a century of service and its latter years spent adorning the dining room of a local B&B, its days were numbered.
So the S.S.P.C.F. stepped in. The internet came up trumps. A few enquiries were made.
And when Big Seymour arrived home later that evening, he had the rescued dresser on board.
Out it came, into the light, and lo! It was beautiful! Saved from execution, a little battered in places, but very handsome indeed. You could almost hear its sigh of relief as we settled it into the last remaining few feet of floor space in front of the window in The Funny Little Bungalow, and thus obliterated all the remaining light.
But it was worth it. I have always wanted a dresser, and whilst this one may not fit the image in my head of the one I was going to have, we will make it work. Because after all, it didn’t cost a penny. And our budget means that we are in no position to be picky.
What is does prove is that Big Seymour and I both like free stuff. And decent, solid, quality furniture with a bit of history is preferable to more modern, flimsy articles that will collapse in a jiffy if a Little Seymour happens to stand on it wrongly.
And besides, I’m so over Ikea.
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