Death by Sun-Lounger
Everyone has certain memories of childhood that they always remember. One of mine is my grandma, who lived next door, sat in her small veranda in her sun-lounger. A box under the footrest where the cats slept to keep her company. She would sit, and watch our yard and into our kitchen… and drive my mum mad. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.
So imagine how thrilled I was when my Grandma gave me her beloved sun-lounger when I got my first place with a small garden. How she must have loved me to give me this oh-so-special chair.
That was until I tried it.
It had two positions – upright like an old fashioned school ma’am was shouting at you, or perfectly flat if not a bit head-lower-than-body. I now knew why the cat box was under the footrest – it was propping it up.
To swap seating positions you had to raise the armrests and either push with your head on the chair back to recline it, or else pull like crazy to get it upright again. And if you weren’t quick enough letting go of the arm-rests in just the right place then you would risk losing skin from the ends of your fingers.
And I also learnt why she always sat in exactly the same part of the veranda never moving even with the changing sun and seasons – the frame was so big and so heavy that it was like carting around a sofa.
Oh, how she must have laughed at my eagerness to have it!
I dragged this chair around from house move to house move – too worried that my Grandma and family would find me ungrateful if I got rid of it.
My parents once asked why I never used Grandma’s favorite chair when she had given it to me and then had to buy herself a grotty new one. I muttered something about the cushion being woolen and itchy and, lo and behold, they bought me a new cushion for it.
It was twenty-four years before I finally got rid of the (insert expletive) thing… and I knew Grandma was still laughing her socks off about it up in heaven.
Some years after giving it to me, she had told me how she had been trying to offload it so that she could buy a nice, new working one – not unlike the one on the red link below. Apparently, she had not wanted to get rid of it to the garbage where it belonged for fear of upsetting the people who had bought it for her…
I’m now off to hide a finger-trapping parasol that my Aunt once gave me… I think it’s next to Grandpa’s old suspension-less bicycle.
Bye for now.