I have chairs. Whilst this may be met less with a hearty cheer than with a shrug at the bathos of it, having chairs pleases me. I've always considered the ERASMUS programme to be a jolly good thing and at this time of year it's great, because all the ERASMUS students are buggering off and selling their stuff. The four chairs were €30. The moving-man had an apalling satnav. He entered my address and then it told us to go somewhere else. I just kept saying "No DON'T turn left" until we saw the castle and home was near.
The chairs are where they would be if there were a table and, hopefully by willpower alone, they will conjure one. They look a bit daft, as if ready to start a reel, but it's good to work out how much space I'll need around them. It has the look of a waiting room which, ho ho, could be a bloody metaphor, but let's not go there. I'm too <select from drop-down list> to wait for anything any more. The waiting is not exactly a choice, more a sort of default response. You know: I'll do zumba when I'm less fat. I think a lot of people do this. And in so deferring you can defer a life away.
One of those inspiring and worthy posts on Facebook said something like today is the youngest you'll ever be, and was accompanied by a picture of a lady of pensionable age doing welding or something. It is true without doubt that we will never be younger than we are at this moment.
So: table next, and food on it, and people to sit at table.