Sofa so good

Our new sofa arrived this afternoon. (The delivery van turned up at virtually the same second as the other van which was bringing our online-ordered groceries, but fortunately nobody got in anyone else’s way and comic scenes full of pratfalls and stunt collisions were thankfully avoided.)

The sofa delivery men had our new tasteful charcoal two-seater up the stairs and in the house in less than a couple of minutes and weren’t even out of breath.

Put us to shame, they did πŸ™‚

So, about our old sofa then, as you are doubtless dying to know.

You can see the old settee if you look at Smoky’s gallery of pictures (just click on the link at the top of the home page). It was a green tough-as-old-boots two-seater with a relatively high back compared to most modern sofas. Firm but comfortable cushions and big chunky bun feet almost as big as your head.

It had started to smell a bit musty, according to Shana. Well, we had owned it for fourteen years, and it was pretty old when we bought it in 2003. We had just bought Ezra the inflatable skeleton (who we still have). One of the blokes who delivered the old sofa wanted to take Ezra home with him but we politely declined.

Tired of the musty aroma, Shana ordered the new sofa last week, and we put the old one out for collection by the local recycling depot.

I make it sound so easy, don’t I?

What actually happened was this. First, we huffed and puffed and almost destroyed the door frame trying to heave the old sofa out of the house. Then we dragged the green beast down a flight of concrete stairs towards the outside world until we got to the last door in the communal area between the two blocks of maisonettes where Waffle Towers is located.

Since we moved here in 2007, the main entrance door has been changed. Not only must you now be a weightlifter to stand any chance of hauling it open, but the door is actually narrower than the flimsy one that used to be there.

What I mean to say is, we got stuck. Almost permanently wedged in the doorway.

At one point I went back upstairs to fetch a ripsaw, as I was convinced that the only way we would get the sofa out would be to dismember it.

Luckily, Mr Saw was not required. While I was upstairs Shana had done some rapid mental trigonometry and worked out the correct angle at which the sofa could be made to leave the building.

So gold star to Shana. And what happened next?

Well, the very next day, just before lunch, a big green dustcart turned up and two he-men in hi-vis jackets he-manhandled the doomed sofa to the back of their truck. At the push of a button Biffa (for it was indeed that very same Dustcart of the Apocalypse) ate my sofa.

They came back ten seconds later for the cushions. And the truck ate those too.

Then, with barely a burp, it rumbled off into the distance, leaving only a faint whiff of mustiness to linger in the air.

‘Farewell, old sofa,’ I thought. ‘Rest in pieces.’ πŸ™‚


Waffle Towers’ new layout

Before I forget: a Happy New Year to all our readers πŸ™‚

No blog posts for the past couple of weeks as we have been away sunning ourselves in the Caribbean.

I’m not convincing anybody am I?

Oh well, back to reality then πŸ™‚

One big change at Waffle Towers has been the room layout.

On Christmas Eve (Christmas Eve evening, to be precise) we finally decided our vintage green sofa had to move into what we call our ‘library’ (ie, where our bookcases are) and so we deployed last year’s most useful buy, a set of furniture sliders, to make the job easy. Shana spotted them for sale in a magazine inserted into our tv listings paper (lucky that, because I usually just throw what I refer to as ‘the comics’, eg, leaflets advertising mobility scooters etc, straight in the bin). The sliders consist of a set of four plastic rectangles with a foam pad attached, so you can pop them under each corner of a piece of heavy furniture and can then glide them over either carpet or vinyl flooring. A steel angled lever also cane with the set so you can lift the corner of whatever you want to move, and shove a slider underneath.

Why shift all our furniture?

Well, we were frequently being dazzled by the new houses across the road. And not because of their architectural quality either! No, it’s just because the sun bouncing off their windows is so bright it’s like looking at a mirror. Simply intolerable.

Moving to the library side has proved much more cosy and a tad warmer too. Should have done it months ago.

Another benefit is that the dining table, which used to be in the library, is now where the sofa used to be. And it feels more like a bistro where it is now,

Moving stuff around also meant we no longer needed full net curtains at the main window (only put up to try to minimise the dazzle problem) and so now Smoky has got his view of the outside world back. Seems like everyone’s happy, doesn’t it?

So, as I said, Happy New Year.

And now, after all that hard graft hauling settees around, I think I’m ready for that Caribbean cruise. Or not, as the case may be πŸ™‚

The Great Sofa Makeover

Call us slow on the uptake if you like (oh, you already did…) but sometimes, despite our abundance of intellectual prowess, we do take a long time to figure otu apparently simple things.

Take our sofa, for example. We bought it about ten years ago. It’s a heritage model (ie, some Edwardians and Victorians owned it before us πŸ™‚ ) but we reckon it’s loads better than those modern ones. The sofa we had before (when we lived at Waffle Cottage) was a three-seater with foam cushions. It looked good but wore out quick. Maybe we sat on it too often. Who knows.

Our current sofa may only be a two-seater (a coupe, if you prefer) but it has a sturdy frame and proper comfy horsehair-filled cushions. It’ll probably outlast us.

But for a long time now, I’ve often complained that my cushion has slid forward, and I frequently have to readjust my seating position. Shana’s the same.

The sofa has bun feet (I think that’s what you call them) on the front. But strangely it has none on the rear. We didn’t think it made much difference. Yesterday though, I grabbed a couple of wood offcuts out of the shed. Only the thickness of a shelf, but enough, I suggested, to try wedging under the back of the sofa where we assumed its original feet would have been. Result: a vast improvement. No more shuffling and shifting about, and no more having to get up every hour to shake the cushions up.

Such a simple solution.

So why did it take us the best part of a decade to work it out? That’s two World Cups and two Olympicses, for goodness’ sake.

There’ll be no stopping me now though. Now I’ve raised the back of the sofa, so we’re no longer in the same kind of laid-back sitting position of a rider on one of those big American chopper motorbikes, there’s only one more thing to do…

I’ll have to raise the front again. Only this time I’ll tweak the suspension and see if I can’t get our sofa to behave like one of those lowrider cars. To complete the image, I must then acquire a baseball hat, wear it back to front, and punctuate all my sentences with rapper-style hand gestures.

On second thoughts, perhaps we’ll keep the bun feet as they are. A stable sofa means much less chance of spilling one’s tea. Some things in life are more important than mere style πŸ™‚

The inflatable sofa

Ezra isn’t the only inflatable we’ve owned over the years. When our sofa became unsittable on due to a lethal metal bar in the back, we bought an inflatable sofa, one of my seriously stupid ideas, but it was all we could afford. It was almost impossible to sit on, and even harder to get up from.

Thankfully we eventually found the sofa we still have in a secondhand shop, it’s an antique and we picked it up for Β£75 including a chair, which has long gone because it was too small to sit in comfortably. I say antique because it’s an old-fashioned one with a wooden frame and horsehair instead of cheap foam, but you need a forklift to pick it up, it’s seriously heavy!

The sofa is the one Ezra is sitting on in his birthday photo, it’s only a 2-seater, and one of those seats belongs to Smoky, I don’t think the inflatable sofa would have survived his claws!