The new house and a table

The house was full, more rudely put stuffed! This was the first time we saw it. Coincidently, we were two families both needing space. They had three teenage children, one was soon to leave for university, and three dogs as well as everything else that goes with a full-on interesting life.

They had found a house with a garden large enough to delight them during retirement and plenty of space. We were both ready to move, which in this country has to be on the same day.

Our next viewing was of the house empty, almost cavanous. Our small amount of furniture from the two up two down cottage soon was in place. The 1950s bungalow had been extended into the loft space, making three small bedrooms and a shower room in the eves. It was very much like a den up there. Our sons had a curling wrought-iron stair case to climb so that the new house was not that bad!

Soon after settling in, our friends suggested we go skiing at Easter. While I had improved on skis, what I really wanted was a proper big dining room table. Contrary to our men folk, I felt that was more important than skiing. Both our families valued putting any extra money on our mortgages rather than on furniture. With that in mind, our friends husband soon had an advert for the private sale of a dining room suite.

The room we walked into to see this table had a baby grand in the corner with plenty of room for a table, which could be extended to seat twelve but normally eight. It was in good condition except for a white burn in the middle, covered with a cloth.

“We only use it at Christmas.” was the answer to what we noticed.

We bought it and our two families went skiing.

It is interesting that thirty years later, we are still enjoying this table. I can paint and write, make a mess at one end, and we can still eat at the calm end. A table that has lasted so well.

This is how the world changes-

little by little, table by table, meal by meal, hour by hour.

This is how we chip away at isolation, loneliness, and fear.

This is how we connect, in big and small ways

We do it around the table.

Shaunce Niequist (1976 American Writer.)

The family was an art… and the dinner table was the place it found expression.

Don De Lillo ( 1936, an Anerican novelist, short story writer, playwriting, screenwriter, and essayist).

Humorists always sit at the children’s table.

If you don’t have a seat at the table, you’re probably on the menu.

Woody Allen, Elizabeth Warren

This post continues from my post remembering selling the cottage.

Thank you for letting me share.

Sandy 🙂