MY CHAIR: A REVELATION FROM SLOANE & SONS
I never understood those people who had “their” seat. From the children I’ve seen have a meltdown in class to my own dad and husband, I couldn’t understand how a particular seat could be so important to any of them [it seemed a little nutsy] – although I do understand the need to buy quality furniture wherever possible. Having a small house, it’s important that we really, truly love the furniture that we fill it with. That’s my opinion, anyway.
In 2001, when we first bought our home together just one year into dating, we went out and bought the sofas of my dreams. After searching for weeks to find just exactly what we were after, there they were. Big squishy, bouncy, and the particular shade of red to match the calligraphy on a set of coffee cups I fell in love with in Whittards and bought for our new life together, and knew I wanted to theme the feel of my home around. I know that makes no sense, but it was a feeling. Haha.
We fitted a three and two seater into our living room with ease. After all, there was the two seater for Casanova and the three seater for me, Gav and Xcally. Those sofas lasted 13 years and it took quite some serious effort to break them down to take them to the tip. They saw the birth of two boys, the lifetimes of two very rambunctious huskies, and still wouldn’t give in.
In 2014, just as Hero was born, we invested in a huge, plushy [chosen by me whilst heavily pregnant and irrational] biscuit coloured sofa with a corner piece [which means that I can stretch out on that part] on it, and I’m quite absolutely sure that there is no way it’s going to survive like the last sofas did. The reason? BOYS.
Three bouncy, circus-tightrope-walking-wannabe boys who seem to believe that sofas are a combination of climbing frame and trampoline. They teeter along the back of the sofa headrests whilst choosing which DVD to watch, they hang off the sides when playing games, they bounce off it for no reason at all – and to be honest, I’ve largely given up telling them to get off it.
I’ve given up a little because I now I have my OWN chair. I’m pretty sure this is a sign of my age in that I am absolutely delighted to have a grown-up chair that is MINE and MINE alone, and I declare this constantly in our home, much like the seagulls in Finding Nemo. A boy waltzes by my chair and lingers? “MINE!” I kid you not.
Yes, I have a new, beautiful Artemis duck egg blue wing-backed chair from Sloane & Sons that is my pride and joy.
Boys are not to touch my exquisite furniture piece. That’s not to say that they haven’t already inadvertently tried to destroy it; whilst covering a dinosaur piggybank in acrylic black paint [they were turning it into an Enderdragon for Daddy on his birthday] they managed to speckle the top of my chair from a range of nearly 3 metres which resulted in a small meltdown from mommy whilst she researched how to clean her precious seat.
I love my grown up chair for so many reasons. Firstly, it’s ALL mine. Secondly, it matches my wallpaper perfectly and really pulls everything in the living room together. Thirdly, it’s beautiful quality. Delivered in one solid piece, all I had to do was attach the legs, although the boys were against that as it was like a mini wingback chair without them that Hero and Lyoto spent an afternoon eyeing up as a very good movie night chair, whilst I was deciding where to put it.
I finally decided to put the chair away from anything that might be a danger to it – and place the-rug-that-must-not-be-eaten-on at the feet of it. This is essentially a force-field in my mind, or a buffer, if you will. The no-crumbs rule on the rug should ensure no chocolately little fingers make it to the chair, and no cheddar crackers end up entrenched in the folds. I’ve thought this through. From where I sit, I can see the TV, reach the power to my laptop and also see what they’re up to in the garden. It’s now MY space. Even sparkly the Hallowe’en ravens are guarding it now for me [thank you, boys].
It was so difficult for me to decide which chair to choose from Sloane and Sons since they were kind enough to let me decide for myself from their whole range – there are so many perfect ones for our home, but I’m so glad I picked this one. I’m looking forward to a cinnamon latte [or hot chocolate if there’s any left by Monday] whilst Beans is at preschool, all snuggled in with my new Debbie Macomber that I’ve just ordered. So if you’re looking for a little refuge in your own home from *insert children’s/dogs/cats names here*, I highly recommend them. Now all I need is that fireplace built and I’ll be ready for Christmas.
We were gifted a beautiful chair from Sloane and Sons, all opinions are honest and my own.