Demolition Man

Being that I’ve lived in Birmingham permanently for about six months now, and in Cardiff for seven years before that, you could say I’m used to being away from home. My family live in my hometown of Swansea, although one of my sisters ironically moved to Cardiff two months after I left there, and so I’m quite accustomed to seeing family members only a few times a year. In fact, I guess I’ve always somewhat preferred it that way.

Katie’s family are based in Cardiff, which is two hours away from us by car. My family are a further hour away on top of that, and so we’ve often wondered how we are going to handle the issue of our baby spending quality time with his grandparents. A couple weeks ago, Katie had a great idea: a sofa bed.

We’ve got four rooms downstairs; a hallway, a kitchen, a front room (our lounge), and a back room (dining room). Katie’s plan would see us turn the dining room into a second lounge, giving family members not only a bed to sleep on rather than having to go home on the day they visit, but also giving us another room in which to “live” in our home.

It was actually a great idea. I’ve got a second TV upstairs which hasn’t really got a home now that we’ve moved the bedrooms around, so that could go downstairs. I’m also able to set up Netflix and such in there too, so not only would it offer guests a fully kitted out room of their own, but it would also give me a place to escape to when Katie puts on some rubbish TV show that I don’t want to watch.

The downside of these changes is that, with the sofa arriving tomorrow, I’ve had to take down our dining table. That table used to be my parents, and I remember helping my father put it together back when I was 13 years old. That was just over 16 years ago.


The above photograph is the result of my work today. Never have I had to remove so many screws from anything in my life (thank God for my power drill – that would’ve been awful with a screwdriver!), and this table put up quite a battle to make itself difficult to beat. But beaten it was, and reduced to countless pieces of wood it ended up.

So, a table that was bought by my parents for their new home all those years ago, and put together by my dad and I, finally met its maker when I had to make changes to my own home for my son. Seems an almost fitting end, doesn’t it?

Or maybe it was just a table? Who knows?


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