Sunday is a day of rest, or so they say.

I’m trying to do my bit.  Resting.

Every other day this week something has cropped up – shopping, shampooing carpets [I do a lot of that these days], cutting hedges and the like.  I’ll probably have to do something later that will knacker me but in the meantime I’m in my favourite armchair.

People can get very attached to their armchairs and I wholeheartedly understand that.  Mine is old and a bit on the large side for its location.  It’s somewhat shabby all right.  One of the main springs in the seat broke a while back.  I had it mended but it broke again, so the seat is a little lower than the designer intended.

The main thing about it is that it is very comfortable.  The cushions are now permanently shaped into the contours of a Grandad and the back is just high enough to rest the head for a doze.  The arms are wide enough that I can have all my stuff to hand – tobacco, lighter, pipe-knife, pen knife and stuff like that.  They all lie comfortably on the arm of the chair.

Herself occasionally threatens to replace it.  She has an uphill struggle though as not only will I fight to the death for my chair but there is a matching two seater couch that Penny has claimed as her own and will not relinquish without a fight.

I don;t care if it’s a little shabby.  Maybe it could do with a clean.  It probably smells of pipe tobacco and old farts.

It’s comfortable and it’s mine!