Feeling rather pleased with myself and wreathed in smiles, I carried my new double bow Windsor chair in from the Lemon Studio so Virginia too could admire it. Pausing only to give the chair a final waft with a duster – and to thoroughly wipe my feet – I set the chair down in the kitchen and hovered patiently beside it until Virginia appeared.
Virginia entered the kitchen, glided past – totally oblivious of both me and the chair – and set her empty glass on the counter. The smile now gone, I made some feeble noise or other to attract her attention.
The wine bottle’s trajectory dramatically pausing mid-pour, Virginia raised her head and looked at me blankly. The stare and silence were wounding, so I simply grinned broadly and gestured with both arms extended towards the new chair situated between us.
“Another new chair”. Virginia said flatly. “For you”?
Vaguely recognising the tone, I lowered my eyebrows and focussed on a cobweb in the corner of the kitchen to better recollect similar past situations and hopefully anticipate the outcome in case I had to take hastily to my heels. Nothing was immediately forthcoming so I confidently replied “Yes”!
The Chardonnay was now spilling over the counter as Virginia’s voice rose half an octave: “So. You now have three of these ‘winter’ chairs…” I straightened up. “Or what ever they’re called!” she continued. “How come you haven’t made one for me”?
I timidly proffered a finger in the direction of the wine which was now dripping onto the floor. “Well I had problems, if you recall; bending the ash bows and…”
“I want one! Before you start anything else, I want one of those chairs for me”! Virginia exclaimed loudly, stamping her foot in the swelling puddle of wine, splashing it over my shoes and the two terriers who, upon hearing an aggravated voice (the nucleus for a good scrap), had joined us in the kitchen and were already emitting low excited growls and eyeing off each other… and the oven gloves… and the legs of my chair.
The trigger was to be Virginia who now realising the contents of the wine bottle were gone, performed a little angry dance, lost her footing in the Chardonnay and landed with a thud on her fundament amidst the two belligerents.
I couldn’t make out a word of what Virginia was yelling over the hullabaloo created by the two snarling terriers, so I swept a great tuft of wine sodden dog hair off my nice new seat, lifted the chair high above the mêlée and beat a retreat from the kitchen.
So, by Royal decree I am free to embark on another Windsor chair which apparently, will also be a double bow example, but other than that, we’ll have to wait and see.