OK, it's not so bad but I had a dispiriting day. My new all-singing all-adjusting ergonomic office chair finally arrived, in pieces with no instructions, which brought my other half out in hives. " I hate these sodding things, they always effing say they're easy and they never effing are." Followed by the IKEA flat-pack rant. The situation did look menacing but once we'd calmed down, it was easy. A piece of cake. So I sit on it, apply my tortoiseshell specs, smooth my skirt, thrust the bust and .. realise they've sent me the wrong flaming chair. My work surface is draughtsman's height and I know I ordered the tall version. Instead of feeling like that secretary in Mad Men, I'm like an old lady driving a rather large motor car. When I press a lever, I'm a child driving a motor car. That's crap isn't it?
But cheer is on its way because a parcel lands on the doormat. I've waited a long time for it to arrive from The USA courtesy of a firm called Alibris via Amazon. Recommended by Peak of Chic, it's 'Only the Best: a Celebration of Gift Giving in America'. . Except it's not. It's just what I've always wanted:
I trust I can be justified in saying that's crap too.
Image top by Magda Archer for POLITE cards here