Now, I’m sure that most of you have partaken in the fine old tradition of furniture waltzing – but you may not have realised that that was what you were doing… until now. In order to furniture waltz you really need two people – and a piece of large and cumbersome furniture. The sport has added frisson if the furniture is self-asssembly and has already partially fallen apart and is held together with one of those elastic spider things that are sold to you for keeping stuff on car roof racks, but which is used for 101 things OTHER than that!
Ordinary furniture waltzing involves gyrating around a room with the aforementioned large piece of furniture until (several paint-knocks and knuckle scrapes later) you find what appears to be the perfect place for it – or, having realised that the whole thing just isn’t going to work, managed to replace (most of) it in its original place. Ordinary furniture waltzing leads to a certain degree of marital stress ("I said left, but of course I meant my left, not your left" style of thing) and much house cleaning – as you are forced to recognise the terrible state of grime in which you habitually live, move and have your being.
However, Sunday afternoon saw OV and OVW (myself) indulging in a new and scenic form of furniture waltzing, which involved taking in a tour of the garden as well. I have to say that the self-assembly-falling-to-bits-computer-desk-from-IKEA at which I now sit and bash this out, joined in the fun with great vim and made a very pleasant partner in the exercise. The dance began in the sitting room and by way of the patio door (mind the pond) snaked round the back of the house and in through the dining room french doors (mind the wisteria and the earwigs).
It was extremely jolly and the marriage withstood the strain quite well. Mind you, had we got the direction a little wrong OV would have tripped over the cunningly placed low fence and taken a plunge into the aforementioned pond, so matters might have been quite different. As it is, I have plenty to occupy me for the rest of the week sorting out the debris. The sitting room is smart and clean and ready to receive guests – but then half a dozen hand bell ringers are decending on me tonight so there was an enormous incentive to get it finished. I’ve even (unsuccessfully) had a go at concealing the ugly scratch sustained by the dining table when a man I know pushed a box (complete with jagged staple) across it last week. Good job I’m not materialistic…much.
In other news (as Carbon Copy would say) thank you Nancy for supplying Barbara Kingsolver as the author of Prodigal Summer. "Miss Hargreaves" – read it and loved it!
I haven’t read all the books Stuck-in-a-book recommends – but I was one of his earliest fans and have been subjected to his persuasive arguments for many years. I have to say, there is not a book that he has recommended me that I have failed to enjoy – but then, he is kind to me and only recommends the ones he knows I’ll like. His ‘between-the-wars’ writers are a delight.
Oh, and if I lay my hands on a copy of Miss Hargreaves I’ll be auctioning it off to the highest bidder for charity!
Now back to the boxes.