Chairs

Our family does not do well with chairs. They tend to give way on us in the most public of situations. Before you suggest more exercise and and healthy eating let me say none of us are grossly overweight.

Frank Lloyd Wright barrel chair. 1904. He used variations of this design in his own house, Taliesin, and in the Darwin Martin house in Buffalo, New York

 My, on the skinny side, husband has the most trouble. His pinnacle of achievement was evening drinks with new neighbours when each leg on his chair splayed out in different directions, sending him crashing to the floor. As our family had witnessed similar events in the past none of us were overly alarmed but the lady of the house found us shockingly unconcerned.

Barcelona chair, 1929 Mies van der Rohe and Lilly Reich

In a lovely heritage building my seven yr old son handed me the arm and side rails of a Windsor chair. The now lop sided donor chair stood reproachfully in a corner. Fortunately the nice lady said not to worry, it was always happening.
Our daughter, on the other hand, is a menace to friends. Her rather ratty canvas deck chairs give up and rip in panic the moment a posterior hovers above.

Red and Blue Chair 1917, Gerrit Rietveld

I thought I had paid my dues many years ago at the lawyer's office. The only room available was the board room. The table and chairs were huge. In fact, when seated, my feet dangled in the air like a child. I was precariously perched on the lip of the seat and worried it might tip forward. With the aid of the arms I bounced myself further back into the chair. The darned thing was on wheels and the force sent me sailing across the room until I bounced off the wall and careened back towards the table. Neither the lawyer or my husband came to my aid, both sitting there with their mouths wide open. Finally I had to ask my husband to wheel me back into position.
So, yup, I thought I was safe.

Adirondack chair 1903, Thomas Lee  (a little patent hanky panky followed)

Wrong. Here begins the final instalment of House Hunting Hell.
Wanting nothing more than to get home we finally got onto the ferry. Winds immediately increased and we had a bumpy ride over the waves. Nevertheless we joyfully bounded into the airport. Flight cancelled, due to now storm conditions. Next flight 27 hours ahead. Time for a very early liquid lunch. Into our favourite seafood restaurant. I gratefully sank into my chair and the leg fell off. I managed to brace myself between the table and the wall in a rather undignified pose to avoid hitting the deck. After all we had been through, it was a laugh or cry moment. I chose, or they chose me, uncontrollable giggles. I could tell the waitress thought me highly strung.

Louis Ghost Chair 2002, Philippe Starck

The airline provided us a night in a slightly grubby hotel, evidenced by the mummified french fry on the carpet.  We gratefully made it to our own precious bed the next day.