Saturday, July 10
This swing chair, with its matching table, has lived here as long as us. In fact we inherited it from Lasse, the previous tenant.
It has now reached the end of its life. Irma just picked the table up to see if it still worked, and it fell apart in her hand.
Literally. The wood has rotted and it collapsed into pieces as soon as she touched it.
I reassemble part of it and put it on the swing chair for a final photograph. The swing chair will also collapse if anyone feels foolish enough to sit in it.
From the ground it looks like an abandoned rocker in an old mansion somewhere in the southern states of America. Something a little gothic, and a little sinister.
We will probably remove it tomorrow. Judging by the state of it we shall probably remove it in small carrier bags.