New & Old
My new furniture don’t like me they did rather be in a household where they are polished and cared for. My old gear is on the terrace waiting to be moved, made of solid wood perhaps a bit heavy but won’t buckle when it’s damp unpolished good friends that don’t mind beer bottle stains carry ‘em proudly as a battle scars, it was in a fit of middleclass pretension that I bought the new stuff. My real furniture is now where they used to be and the new ones are fretting on the terrace. A schoolteacher has bought them, an arch preserver of middleclass values, I don’t care skeletons in my cupboard can now rest in peace.
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