The Hand-Me-Down Desk

21 January 2013

Some of my most treasured possessions are those pieces of furniture that have been a constant in my life. They are what can only be described as comforting. They're all pieces that I can remember from my childhood.

My great-grandmothers wardrobe stands in Arthur's bedroom and despite it's age and old dark wood, it fits in effortlessly with his modern styled room. Then there is our dining table, that I've written about on this blog before, that originally longed to my grandparents. Also there is my lamp, probably originating from the late 60's, that's lives in my living room: that was rescued from my parents old house some years ago when they were about to get rid of it. In my eyes that just couldn't be thrown away: as far as lighting goes it was practically part of the family!

Then there is my desk. I was the 'middle' owner of it really. My grandfather made it for me when I was little; so little that my feet dangled above the floor when seated at it. The metal frame part of the desk had been the same metal frame of the desk he made for my dad. My grandfather reconditioned the frame and made a new wooden lidded desk top (complete with ink well) before passing it onto me. Once I grew out of it, it was kept in my parents loft and, once I left home, it took residence in the various lofts of the homes I have lived in.

Now it's in Arthur's bedroom and therefore under its third ownership. He loves it. He should get a few years out of it yet, as when he sits at it his feet still dangle above the floor, much like mine did. 

How very comforting that is.

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