Getting back

Having a subconscious tie tugging me to a phantom, idealised bucolic life led me to believe this was my destiny.

Because of their scale, towns and cities have the appeal of inclusivity and freedom. In reality, more residents are squashed into a smaller area.

The increasing cost of living is so high that a weekly night out on the tiles is beyond the grasp of those with modest means.

Around a decade ago, I looked into buying a block of land in the Sunshine Coast, Queensland hinterland. It was large enough to build our own home. Unfortunately, the distance from a large urban area and requisite workplace remained too far away.

We purchase the ‘swan’ chairs on a whim in 1999 from an over the top furniture shop on the fringe of Double Bay, Sydney. They have gold finished frames, Sensuede seats and Teflon coated French silk backs. Like most things in our life they have patina. Reminding us of happy gatherings of friends and family.

Instead we opted for somewhere within one hour public transport commuting distance of Brisbane. There is an added bonus of a huge nature conservation area literally across the road.

Within our humble dwelling, a long held grandiose idea of a French Empire themed dining room has miraculously manifested in a not too shabby area of the kitchen.

The table extends to seat eight to ten people. Prior to the move it stood on end sans legs for five years on the landing of the townhouse.

While searching, one of the requirements of the new house was space enough to accommodate the dining table.