Monday, August 09, 2010

Sofa No Good

For as long as Mr BC and I have been together (four years and a sundry number of days, fact fans), it's been my mission to procure a sofa that we can both sit on at the same time to watch DVDs and the like.

This has been no easy task given the triple constraints of a) my bank balance, b) the dimensions of the doors and stairwells in my/our various homes to date and c) the vast and comical height discrepancy between Mr BC and me.

When we were first going out, the only piece of comfy furniture I had to my name was a cherry-red leather Klippan from Ikea. Mr BC's six-foot-two frame promptly occupied the whole of said sofa, leaving me to perch awkwardly on a corner for entire seasons of Battlestar Galactica. This forced me into an unscheduled further visit to Ikea, which opportunistically took place between the ceremony and reception of a friend's wedding, from which I triumphantly returned (via the wedding reception) with a stripy Karlstad armchair.


This was promptly occupied in its entirety by the cat.

(In the end we had to drive to Somerset to get another red leather Klippan, so we could all have something to sit on, but that's another story.)

But that was then. Today, due to a variety of fortuitous circumstances, my bank balance is healthier than it used to be, my doors wider and my stairwell more expansive (although the comical height difference between Mr BC and me remains at an immutable 14 inches).

So it was with no little glee that I allowed myself to rootle through the Dwell sale in search of the perfect DVD-watching sofa. I ended up ordering an extravagant modular number, with a long bit, a corner bit and an extra bit for good measure, paying no heed whatsoever to how big these things might be or how much space they might take up in our upstairs living room.

At length (Dwell only deliver to Cornwall once a month, apparently) the items arrived. They got through the front door OK, but there was no way the long bit was going up the stairwell, however expansive its proportions. Eventually the drivers left the parcels downstairs and bid us a hasty goodbye before the INEVITABLE DOMESTIC ARGUMENT broke out.

Presently:

ME: This is all your fault, you know.

Mr BC: How can this possibly be my fault? You chose them. You ordered them. You didn't look to see how big they are, or whether they'd fit up the stairs.

ME: Because of what you told me about the sofa models.

MR BC: What sofa models?

ME: When we first knew each other, you told me that on sofa adverts, all the models are little people.

MR BC: Did I?

ME: To make the sofas look bigger, you said.

MR BC: Ah, oh. Ah. I see what's happened here.

ME: Yes. You told me that all sofas are modelled by dwarves. Therefore I have accidentally ordered an enormous sofa that doesn't fit in our house.

MR BC: I was flirting with you. Because you're quite small, and yet quite nicely proportioned. I was saying you could be a sofa model.

ME: Oh. I thought you were just trying to tell me that all sofas are tiny in real life.

MR BC: No.

ME: I've warned everyone I know.

MR BC: Look, this bit's broken.

The long bit of the sofa has indeed been damaged in transit.

ME: Hurrah, we can legitimately send it back!

Several weeks and another visit from Dwell later, we have a huge, fantastic modular sofa in our upstairs living room, made out of one extra bit and two corner bits. The broken long bit has gone back on the Dwell lorry, and everyone's happy.

Later, we're recounting this story to the lovely Rach, of Nappy Mountain fame, and her lovely husband Rob, who've come for a blogmeet during their holiday in Cornwall. During the retelling, Rach and Rob exchange meaningful glances. Afterwards they inform us that they have a friend who *is* an actual sofa model, and he is six foot four.

Not long after, Mr BC and I are lounging together on the new sofa, watching Sherlock.

ME: You could be a sofa model, you know.

MR BC: Shh.

12 comments:

LC said...

I vaguely remember sharing the back seat of your car with a chair on the way back to London from a wedding reception - same one?

I was looking forward to the post about chairs in movies. :(

patroclus said...

Indeed it was - I was going to put in a bit about how you had to squash in the back with the chair but thought I'd blathered on long enough already.

Great Chairs In The Movies will appear just as soon as I can find suitable pictures of the chairs in question.

Boz said...

Praise be - two blog posts?? These are hallowed times.

We have a piecearubbish sofa in our rented flat. The springs prod us in painful places.

You don't actually need to care about this, but know that I am jealous of your soft furnishings.

Jayne said...

I think they use small sofas and beds in new build houses to make the rooms look bigger. Of course I could be as misguided as Mr BC.

Looks damn comfy though. Of course your cat will expand to fill the whole thing and you'll all end up trying to squish onto a beanbag but hey.

Christopher said...

Le Sopha by the Crébillon Frères - the early Enlightenment revelations of the soul of a voyeur/écouteur imprisoned in a sofa - has always needed a sequel. Thank you.

(You did check for concealed denizens? I mean, with a company called Dwell...)

Dave said...

I have a gentleman's leather armchair (I took it while the gentleman had his back turned) and a two-seater settee. Frankly I have two seats too many for my needs.

I am of average height.

The Bureauista said...

I will be showing this blog post to my boyfriend as a precursor to (once again) pointing out that, expensive and tasteful though his modular Swiss leather armchairs are, NO ONE WANTS TO SIT ON THE FUCKING THINGS.

nuttycow said...

I would love to be a sofa model. It would make for great (and bizarre) conversation.

Someone else: Soooo, what do you do?
Me: I'm a sofa model
Someone else: Riiiight *backs away slowly*

Vicus Scurra said...

At the risk of being accused of indelicacy, I fear that I must warn you that sharing a sofa may lead to unseemly intimacy.
Be circumspect in your viewing choice - eschew erotically inclined content such as Peter Sissons and Cilla Black.

Henry Dandelion said...

We have a 3 seater sofa and a 2 seater, which I'm informed is called a "love seat". I normally sit alone on the "love seat". That about sums me up really.

Annie said...

Patroclus! You missed namedropping LC? Never miss an opportunity to namedrop another blogger in a post, even if it means having to blather on longer than strictly necessary.

You and Mr BC are so cute.

Tim Footman said...

Of course, if the height difference is such a problem, you could construct an Ames room.