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It don’t deliver

Submitted by on December 17, 2013 – 7:01 pmNo Comment

tableYou know it doesn’t work. It doesn’t deliver. Look at this. I want two things, not much to ask after more than forty five years of work. All I want is a kitchen table with a couple of chairs and some socks that come up to my knee after I’ve washed them once.
The table conundrum began life as a simple enough desire. I mean I was sitting on the sofa looking blankly at the white walls opposite, hear the phone, jump up to answer, a thing I rarely do due to the fact that the only people that phone me are debt collectors. But this time for some stupid reason I leapt up and darted for my phone forgetting that I had veggie stew on my lap. Don’t get alarmed, I’m not referring to a non-meat-eating Stu from the Bay, it was a real vegetable stew withManchester bus 192 vegetables and everything. You can see where I’m going with this. The vegetable stew ceased to be a vegetable stew and became a bloody mess on my carpet. Something I was hoping to avoid because the landlord had decided in his ultimate wisdom to lay a nice cream/beige coloured carpet which has a tendency to look shite with vegetable stew strewn all over it. So a kitchen table it was.
My first port of call was a trendy little place on Barlow Moor Rd. But it seemed a little expensive and it was only my first venture into kitchen table buying, you can’t just buy the first table you see, that would be like buying the first pair of shoes you put on.
Cabnet MakerI looked online but I wanted to see the table in real life. I need to see a cake before I buy it.
There were a few glass top tables but that wasn’t for me, you can never get glass clean, there is always a mark on the other side of the glass, how does that happen? I wanted wood. I got on the 192 and hopped off just past Longsight market and struggled up the stone steps of the old building that looks like a town hall of days gone by. Inside there is furniture galore. Sideboards, desks, wardrobes, settees, mirrors, huge dinning tables, but smaller kitchen tables, the type needed to fit in an ordinary kitchen in a rented flat, they are a rarity.
Then at last I did cast my eye on a beautiful peace of craftsmanship.  Oak, turn and flap to open it to a larger table. The dovetail hinge had been inlaid with skill and patience. There was the tiniest chisel mark where the cabinetmaker had cut the wood for the hinge. A mistake for sure but proof of human endeavour. This table had been crafted and worked by a human being, he or she but to be honest more likely to be a he given the sexist nature of society, had taken tea breaks, chatted to his mates, gone for a piss, moaned about the pittance he was paid, loved, eaten and died. I loved this table. Put £70 deposit to be delivered on the following Tuesday.
The following Tuesday arrived but the beautiful table didn’t. A phone call told me that it had been nicked. Two men, apparently, walked into the store and walked out with my table. I got my deposit back but I didn’t have a table. A trip to Cheetham Hill Road and I discovered two, yes two large store type places that sold kitchen tables. Both these stores had kitchen tables, wooden with chairs but not made with care like the stolen table had been. I still don’t have a table and my living room carpet has a dirty great stain on it now.

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