What do you do when an old friend (I was the best man who wore a morning suit and flip-flops at her wedding forty-odd years ago) gives you a whole bunch of parquet flooring ?
The floor was from the office where she had worked and it had, er, sentimental attachments for her. When the building was demolished, all the mahogany floors went in the skip except fr the one in her office, which was salvaged. I wanted to say lovingly, but I think with a crowbar.
Well, I have had it stacked in my too-small shed for too long, and then idea suddenly popped into my head that it might make good table tops with a bit of tinkering.
The mahogany had been laid on pitch, so getting that off was a herculean labour. Plus the finished thing smelled alarmingly medicinal for a couple of weeks. It had the aroma of an imagined surgical theatre on board a Victorian naval vessel, but then my imagination was always a bit undisciplined.
Anyway, here is one finished table, which tries to carry the essence of floor in more than an aromatic way. And later today it will be in my friend's living room, reminding her of happy times. At the office ? What's that about ?
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