I was surprised by how physically and mentally hard moving one broken armchair from my mother’s house to the garage was.

She had fixed it by stuffing it with a feather pillow, made with iron chicken feathers, and then taping and nailing across the hole. The house is so full that getting the beggar on its side to get the pillow out was a test; then getting it to the front door involved shifting the sofa and the fridge; and having to keep twisting it one way, then another.

Just a few years ago I would have left the thing outside and called the local council to take it away. Now that is a paid for service, and I have to cost alternatives. So it will sit in the garage until a date unknown.