pre-weathered

Continuing our gradual progression adulthoodwise, a couple of weeks ago we bought some furniture for the house. Whilst I neither initiated no sought to exert any control over this process (I submitted suggestions on the nature of practicality, usability and the tendency of furnitures whose pointy-outy bits around their top surface are sufficiently pointy-outy to probably hurt if they catch an elbow, hip or kidney) I was present during the choosing and buying procedure though opted for carrying the wingpiglet around the shop behind Nicky as she wandered about haggling with the salesman. Though an entire item of furniture dedicated to the television is extravagant, it can be used for other items and now that the wingpiglet seems to want to be asleep rather than screaming for the latter part of the evening there is a chance that the television's use might resume for short periods each night. Small tables are quite useful (even though one reason for my recommendation of getting the same sort of flat-pack sofa for the house as we recently bought for the flat was that the arms are sufficiently flat to be used in the same way as a small side-table) so a small nest of three of them was acceptable provided they seemed sufficiently sturdy to not be at risk of becoming a means of distributing coffee over the floor. We've recently regained a few square feet of floorspace now that Edgar is no longer comfortable in the heirloom-crib-thing but re-occupying that floorspace and as much again with something which can only be described as a sideboard was the thing which seemed a bit too adult, especially when it shall be filled with all the various bits of fancy wedding-present crockery and cutlery and the Glassware of Fear which will generally only ever be (extremely gingerly) used when we have guests for whom or on occasions when the use of standard disposable cheap-to-replace-when-it-inevitable-expires-after-a-certain-number-of-washes Ikea 365+ crockery are/is deemed unacceptable. A special item of furniture to keep such things in is exactly the sort of thing found in parent's houses.

Whilst the television unit and the largest and most useful table were both fine, both little tables had a few gougelike damaged bits on their tops like that shown above, only an aesthetic problem if they were always to be viewed so that the light was shining directly on the wound and only a problem in practical terms of trying to use the table as a writing surface with a single thickness of paper when it might have resulted in a brass-rubbing-style textural error. The sideboard had a couple of chunks missing from one of the bits of beading on the door-front and a few big scratches down one leg, currently the leg destined to be facing a wall at a distance of a few centimetres but potentially visible in a post-reorganisation future. If it's anything like the sideboard my parents had and if the wingpiglet is anything like me then it will also be at risk of having its smooth upper surface repeatedly stabbed with a fork, though I am at least anticipating this and shall be looking forward to attempting to mitigate such damage using processes such as the reinflate-with-a-steam-iron method or the just-leave-it-there-as-a-future-reminder-to-the-perpetrator-when-he-matures-enough-to-feel-shame technique, which has the added benefit of making people very respectful of others' property in adulthood. I would probably have avoided an argument and potential confontration by not bothering to get the minor damage fixed or the items replaced but Nicky was prepared to argue with the delivery people and refused to sign until it was fixed or promised to be fixed, so I took a few pictures for her to wave about if required when she pops back to the shop tomorrow.