This is Uncle Ed’s Chair. Uncle Ed was born in 1908, so he was probably sitting in it about a century ago.
He was my Gran’s little brother. As we’re the folk left in the family with kids who fit it, we’ve inherited it. I like how the seat’s all scratched and the arms are shiny, a reminder of all the abuse it’s taken in the last 100 years.
Ours prefer sitting on tables or on the floor. Perhaps it’s unfamiliar.
I like that it’s useful and practical, and gives a physical connection to the past. It’s not the only connection: the watercolours that the sketches are done with belonged to my Gran. It’s nice that they’ve lasted.
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