Story of a Chair

 

A chair. Thousands similar. Not valuable, exciting, or particularly beautiful. But... it has a story:

Once upon a time, in the early 1950s our Gran opened 'Doris' Hair Salon in Dublin in order to support her family. It became something of an institution in both the family and the community with many stories being told over the years of both clients and mishaps. Gran ran the Salon until her retirement and Mum worked there all through her teenage years, during school holidays and through college when needed. In those days this chair was painted pink, and in a later refurbishment, pale green. 

After Gran retired the chairs found new homes, this one with 3 sisters going to Gran's house, then to our parents' homes as we moved between Ireland and London for Dad's work. Mum painted them all brown in the '80s and they were the regular kitchen chairs from when we were growing up until about 12 years ago. 

In turning out the attic last winter we found the chairs, hauled them down, cleaned them up and took them to my kitchen to begin another life. And last week I painted this one white to go with my house. I will get to the others presently but the smell of paint indoors in winter was a little overwhelming!

And so it goes, 70 years in the life of an ordinary wooden chair.

Yesterday's soundtrack was 'Cavalleria Rusticana' as my brother was playing 'recognise- the- opera'. It was on an old record, but despite enjoying the music we were stumped until we reached the Intermezzo. Obviously our opera recognition is both limited and rusty.