That old divan

I have bought a new Canon scanner with which I am scanning in a lot of old negatives and colour slides. I know I’ve touched before on how viewing old photographs can trigger powerful memories. Some of the events I’ve looked at again were buried deep in the recesses of my mind and I hadn’t thought about either the people in them or the places and times they describe in a very long time.

We weren’t poor but our home was modest. Timber floors, when that was a sign of lack of money rather than a trendy fashion statement like it appears to be today, venetian blinds, and the only thing we had to sit on in the loungeroom was an old divan.

That piece of furniture saw all my childhod illnesses – mumps, measles, german measles and chicken pox. It even saw the days when my sisters or I faked illness in order to get out of school. And it was the place of choice for those Sunday nights in front of the TV watching Disneyland. It was there when we woke to find Father Christmas and the Easter Bunny had come. It saw the block fences around zoos and farms and the villages of lego and the fort full of my cowboys and indians, and my sisters games with their Barbie Dolls.

It was there when the log rolled out of the fireplace on a still night and burnt slowly through the floor of the house. It rested the weary bones of my four grandparents and accepted the jumps of young kids for years. At some time in the late sixties or early seventies, probably not long after that photo was taken, it was replaced by a three piece vinyl lounge suite, which as the years wore on also collected the creases of my family’s life until it too passed to someone else.

I know that some of you who read here like a writing challenge so my request of you is that you find a photo of an old piece of furniture and tell us it’s story – I’ll update this post with the links of anyone who cares to participate.


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