Andrew Kay: Yak Yak Yak

Flat pack floundering

F lat pack? More like flat out. Let me elaborate. I went home to visit mum a few weeks back. Regular readers will know that she is quite a character, nobody’s fool, bright as a button and sharp as a knife – and at 83 she is very aware of time and how fast it moves on. Not that I needed reminding of that.
She was as always pleased to see me, and me her, and we had a great time, four days of catching up – and when I say catching up, I mean CATCHING UP.
Mum is very aware not only of her age but also of mine and she was keen to remind me that I will very soon be 60.
Now I am fully aware of this, and also aware that one can never actually catch up in the getting older stakes. That said, as I get older the difference in our ages does change. At 23 I was half her age, now as I approach 60 and she is 83 that difference is far smaller. I don’t get maths but I do get this.

 
Anyway, she recognises that 60 is for me something of a milestone and wanted to make sure that she marks it in a major way. Having a birthday in February my parents would often try to bundle a Christmas and birthday gift into one. “One big one or two small ones?” they would ask. I soon realised that one big one was a better deal, by February they would always feel the need to buy a second birthday gift anyway.
So as we sat eating liquorice and chatting mum decided that it was time to broach the subject of a birthday gift. Well as you might imagine, at 59 there are few things that I really need.
Mum is not one for giving gifts of money really but in the end she decided to give me some cash to buy something that I really want.
I decided that I should choose something, show her what and buy it there and then. So I sat back in dad’s old reclining chair and wracked my brain. There it was, a new armchair, one that I could relax in and enjoy looking at. There was only one choice and very soon I was goggling at Google trying to find it.
Which chair should be obvious to anyone how really knows me, it had to be a Charles Eames ‘Relax’ Lounge Chair and Ottoman. This classic combination was designed especially for director Billy Wilder in 1956. Well 1956 was the year of my birth so it seemed more than appropriate that this would be my birthday gift.
Next came the ordeal of finding the chair from a reputable source and at the right price. I was flabbergasted by the number of models that were available. Of course most are inspired by the Eames original, which it seems is a clever way of marketing what is perhaps a copy if not a counterfeit.
How I would have loved to be able to buy an original, but the prices… well let’s say that they were beyond my budget.
After a few hours of trawling through websites and reading reviews and testimonials I found one in the right colours – veneer, walnut – and at the right price. I sent a link to mum’s iPad, yes she is a techno-crumbly, and she loved it. So we bought it, there and then.
Having waited a silly amount of time for a new sofa this year, I was prepared to wait until at least February for the chair.
Four months for the sofa, four days for the chair. I was amazed!

I was even more amazed when the doorbell rang. I had been able to track online where the parcel was from the minute the order confirmation came through. On the morning of delivery I was sent a message saying that it would be with me between 13.04 and 14.04. Oddly specific and wonderfully prophetic as the bell rang at 13.05.
There was Sam with a huge box, a very heavy box! He placed it in my porch and with a smile said”I’ll get the other one.”
Two huge and very heavy boxes! I could barely move around them as they filled one end of my bijou living room. I signed for them, smiled and sat down with a sigh.
I had known that the chair would require some assembly. What I did not realise was that it would take as long as it did.
I returned to my desk and carried on working, but the monolithic presence to my rear was haunting me. At 4pm I gave in and opened box one. Inside I found a single photocopied sheet of sparse instructions, an odd looking tool and an assortment of bits. I found a tray and counted out all the small parts checking them against the photocopy. Everything was there. I sighed with relief.
Box two held the remainder of the parts and was scarily heavy. And so the journey began. I started off easily enough, the foothills of flat pack mountain so to speak. An hour later, and bathed in the sweat of exertion, I prepared myself for the final ascent. It was rocky terrain but the summit was in sight, the sleek design, the curved walnut and soft black Italian leather was all coming together. By six it was done and my lounge looked like a Heal’s Christmas window, design icon amidst a drift of polystyrene snow. I ignored the mess and sat back. Happy early birthday to me and thanks mum.