The final piece

Finally, finally I got my gleeful paws on it. The coveted chesterfield foot stool. From one TCC member to another, the semi ritualistic passing of the vintage chairs had become my property. On initially collecting the dandy furniture I had assumed that the relaxing foot stool would have been part of the deal. It wasn't.

Cue a miffed face and disgruntled person as David and I loaded the chairs and headed back up north.   

Fast forward some years and it transpired that the original owner would no longer need the stool he barely used. I told him I would be taking it and he laughed. Boy, I wasn't joking. 

The opportunist in me was ready to finally claim the last piece in my chesterfield armoury. How can I have a chesterfield high chair and not the bespoke foot piece to rest ones weary feet, exactly. It's tantamount to having cereal without milk (preferably warm). It's just a bonkers notion. 

So, armed with my two bags in my left hand  and the footstool under my right arm I marched, (wobbled, due to the heavy weight I was carrying) into Euston station, up the stairs and and into the expansive foyer. Yep, I was carrying a footstool around and I must have looked a tad bizarre as I noticed a few curious looks. I had no need to wait for my train - but if I had needed to of course I would have sat down on it in the midst of a busy station whilst inquisitively looking up at the train times etc. And why not, it's hard getting a seat in that place.

Bumbling my way onto the packed train I accidentally banged my big bags into people's sides as they sharply turned around. My apologetic face and gestures were in full use as the stool was also precariously close to whacking somebody upside the head - which would have rendered them into confused cuckoo (cuckoo!) swirling tweety bird state. 

Who is this mad man carrying big bags and a burgundy stool down a narrow train aisle. Well, that would be me. Managing to somehow squeeze and gingerly place the stool above in the overhead luggage holder I then sat down to enjoy my journey. The odd looks may have continued but I didn't care, the stool was making its way home with me. 

And on returning to my most humble abode and rushing to rest my lovely feet on the classic foot piece I felt rather satisfied in the knowledge that it was well worth the slightly arduous trip.

Demola, TCC