Seat of learning

The stout, elegant chair had been surplus to the requirements of Lloyds Bank or had just fallen out of favour being replaced by a green plastic moulded type on metal legs, one requiring a wipe down with a damp cloth and not a lifetime of care. I expect it will have graced the branch managers office. The legs, masterfully turned by hand with cross bracings were properly jointed into the broad seat. A steadying semi circle of spindles and a slightly raised back will have given the manager a good upright and authoritative appearance for those all important decisions of lending which could change the fortunes and future of a nervous customer or alternatively to assist in the passing on of bad news for a weak business plan.

It just arrived at our house one day, carefully negotiated out of Father's car and taking up a place in the back room which contained the upright piano and a large table for doing homework and activities. Through the growing years of the five of us siblings it survived being stood on, jumped from, being turned upside down, dragged around , rocked on one, two or three of its legs, being left in the garden overnight and assaulted by orange squash, painting water, water paints ,wee-wee and worse.

When the family moved in 1979 I assumed stewardship of the chair and it ended up in my bedroom, the first time I had had a room to myself ever. The move to the new house had included our Gran taking up residence in a downstairs room and the furniture that had come from her bungalow was distributed amongst the main family rooms. I got a dark wood bureau desk. It looked classy but when the drawers were removed it was of a rough almost matchwood quality typical of the shortages of good wood in the years after the first world war. The flimsy ply back panel regularly deposited a fine dust from active woodworm onto the carpet. Both chair and desk went well together. When shuffled up under the drop down leaf it felt very comfortable and solid. I spent many, many study hours in that position and that chair was a major reason for acheiving the results that allowed me to pursue my career.

It was some years before the chair followed me to a house of my own. The strength remained in the wood and my own children put it to the test as I had when a similar age. From time to time the mahogany was subjected to a thorough feeding and polishing and looked as good as new. It continued in daily use until eventually being stored in the garage. The deterioration in the moist atmosphere was rapid and alarming. Any organic material in the wood seemed to have been sucked out and the sheen from polish and thousands of abrasive sitting movements was replaced with a black surface mould. The familiar weight , bulk and presence had gone and in its place was a dry almost brittle skeletal frame. I lifted the deadwood off its nail on the garage rafter and in doing so it fell apart in my hands.

I think the abandonment and betrayal felt by the chair had killed it.