You might recall that I have been searching for the perfect reading chair for years and to no avail.
It needed to be comfortable and low, easy to move up near the fire in the Bookroom when the wind is whistling, nice enough colour, so a deep red or blue or green would be fine, nothing complicated in that.
'Have we got any plans for today...'
I did a bit of a shrug and said
'Probably not, we'll only spend money we don't need to...'
'Right,' he said, 'I'll go into town, get the papers and we'll light fires and laze...'
A perfect sort of Saturday after a busy week, so I pottered around folding washing and emptying the dishwasher, doing the ironing... no right, you've seen through that, it was a freezing cold morning, I stayed in bed and read some more of Elizabeth Bowen's The House in Paris, just managing to get out and into the shower when I heard the car coming back.
'I've bought you a present,' he said when I finally put in an appearance.
Frantic questioning usually follows a statement like this...
'What....where... will I like it...is it something I wanted....'
All I get is a wry smile by which time I am approaching fever pitch because I love presents, who doesn't and Bookhound is very good at them. Anyway we had to go through the 'You go and put the kettle on while I bring it in' thing...and then the 'close your eyes and don't open them until I say,' thing...
It was a freezing cold but beautifully sunny day, so we upended it out on the verandah, treated a few stray worm holes, hoovered it, gave the upholstery a quick damp clean, polished the wood, gave it an airing and then proceeded to move the entire Bookroom around again to accommodate it.
The more I look at it, and the more I sit in it, and the more I prop a book up and read it on that lovely wooden stand which is at the most perfect height for my eyes, the more I love it, and the more I think we would probably have paid a lot more than the £50 we did.
And I am to be found in it at every available moment doing hands-free reading, though I don't always wrap up quite this extensively and sit there in my boots, I'd just come in from choir practice.
And who on earth would have thought I have anything in common with Thomas Carlyle, but I do, even down to our castors.
Clever Bookhound, by jove I think he's cracked it