Thursday, August 26, 2010

Undoubtedly DIM!

Smugness is never an attractive characteristic. I know that. But would you forgive me if, just for this one letter, I indulge in a bout of joyful, unmitigated, self-satisfaction?
Thank you . . . I knew you would!

Over the past few months, my much-loved ergonomic typing chair has been slowly disintegrating beneath me. Alright, I know you don't feel comfortable perching on it, but it has suited me perfectly. The first sign of trouble was when the seat came loose. The screw holes having worn away, it needed to be tied on with string. Then the padding went, leaving me with somewhat sore knees. I had had the seat for over twenty years, it had been a kind gift from a friend . . . but everything is mortal, and it was becoming very clear that the end was in sight for my chair.

Where on earth, I asked myself, would I find another such chair? Then inspiration struck. I put 'typing chair' into Google and up came a beautiful ergonomic chair that was manufactured by Furniture@work in Glasgow. I clicked . . . and typed . . . and clicked again . . . and, within minutes, an email had arrived telling me that my chair would be with me shortly.
It was . . . it arrived the following morning!

Only I didn't receive a chair. What I received was a very large cardboard box containing a myriad bits and pieces - plus a sheet of paper identifying what the bits and pieces were. Sadly, for someone as ignorant as myself, there was no diagram plotting me through the stages of construction. There was not even an indication as to where a total amateur would begin. I closed the box. This, I realised, after my experience with the air cooler, needed time, courage and application . . . and I felt in very short supply of all three!

A week later, sick of stumbling over the large box in the hall, I opened it once again. Somewhat fearful of finding myself left with the myriad components, not well-wrapped in the box but scattered at random over my flat, I started, very cautiously, to investigate.
There were two, large pieces of polished wood . . . two stout wooden tubes with a brass core . . . screws . . . rods . . . washers . . . a padded seat and a knee rest . . . four castors . . . a spanner . . . and a curious black rod with a bent end.

D.I.Y has never been my natural bent and, looking at this miscellany on the carpet, I felt convinced that it never would be.
BUT . . . just look at this photo . . .
. . . a definite case of Did-It-Myself!
I won't give you the acronym as it's hardly flattering!

And the curious black rod with the bent end? This, I learned was an Allen Key (who, I wonder, was Allen?) which skilfully enabled me to fix the brass ends into the rods.

There are no unidentified pieces left over, the chair moves sweetly on its castors, it is comfort personified to sit on, and I am thrilled to bits!
And look what a wonderful resting place it provides for Chloe!

Smug . . . ? Me . . . ? Never . . . !