On a recent weekend to Manchester, my friend Laura and myself stopped in at a lovely little second hand furniture store. Cardboard boxes lined the walls and treasures sat on every shelf waiting to be discovered and whipped off to new homes by excited interior adventurists.
Laura and I shop rather well together, both finding it impossible not to touch every trinket and examine every frame to reveal little doodles and paintings that live within. Nestled up against an old shelving unit and some gorgeous shoe blocks sat a cluster of dusty demijohns. These made their way swiftly into my car, along with a new stool, which though my husband appreciates its beauty, there is, he says with great patience, nowhere for it to go.
Ah, I sigh, there is always space for a new chair.