I visited my granma about 10 years ago and as I was leaving she said " Lamby please take that chair in the front hallway with you'. I asked her if she was sure and she insisted so I took the chair with me. When I got home I noticed it needed re-upholstering and was badly scratched and all the legs were wonky, especially the front left which looked alright until you needed to use the chair whereupon it would buckle under the pressure. It also smelled funny - but I figured if nan loved it - then it must have been useful in its time and surely it will provide me some comfort over the years.
Well over the years the chair has scratched my hardwood floors beyond redemption so much so that my eyes tear up on entering the dining room, it has buckled under me many times as I start to eat resulting in many forkings to the upper forehead or right cheekbone. Amazingly while you position the chair in front of the place setting it invariably slants to either the left or right so that sometimes you cant reach or even see the food. No matter how many times I washed or cleansed it in some concoction it always smelled bad. No matter how many times skilled tradesman coaxed and attempted to remedy my chair it always reverted to its old self once the tradesmen had left and sometimes even in their presence. The chair has given me great heartbreak over the years and great pain espoecially when it collpased while I was changing a lightbulb resulting in a badly injured left leg BUT I always consoled myself that my granma must have loved that chair and that it must have been useful once in its life and as an obligation to Nan I would continue to nurtue it and utilise it in whatever role it could fulfill, however poorly.
Then last week I visited Nan and I mentioned I was still utilising the chair and was considering givng it life membership in the Lamb household. "What chair?" she enquired. You know the chair I picked up ten years ago - a bit ragged and wobbly. "Nah cant place it" replied Nan. I perservered and perservered and finally it clicked with Granma. "Oh that old thing, I didn't think you would take it home". Why not I enquired. "Well"said Nan, "the onmly reason the chair was in the hallway was because we had a hard rubbish collection and this old chair had been left behind by the Council and had found itself on my front lawn. It was so bloody horrible, smelly and useless that I took it inside as it affected the amenity of the street and I didn't want anyone to think I was associated with something that ugly, so that's why I asked you to take it away.
I went home that night a much wiser and humble man and thanked my chair for ten years of tortured service and promptly retired it to the garage. As a mark of respect, I named it the 'Chaffey". I now have a new chair, sleek, polished, robust and very very functional. I am thinking of calling the new chair the Chris Johnson (or maybe with some luck the Jarryd Oakley Nichols)
Cheers to the Chaff
Lamby
