My Nana died back in 2003. I know that’s a morbid way to start a blog post, but trust me, this is where the story starts.
She died quite suddenly. It was April. Good Friday, in fact, when she had a heart attack and ended up in hospital. By Sunday, Easter Sunday, she was gone.
The following weeks I remember helping clean out the house. Things were thrown out, others were sold to the antique stores in town and various bits and pieces went to various family members.
I still know everything that I took from that house, that was hers. I guess you always remember the things that a loved one owned. I have her rocking chair, a piece of Irish pottery in the shape of a cauldron and a porcelain penguin. There was also a cobalt blue glass vase with a tear shaped stopper. But the cat ended up knocking it off my dresser one night and literally smashed it into thousands of tiny sharp blue pieces. I cried all night.
Then there was the pink stool.
I don’t even remember finding it in the house and I don’t remember why I took it either. But in the almost 12 years that have passed, that stool has been in my parents’ house in one room or another. That is, until six months ago when it made the trip to my house.
It has been sitting in our lounge, between the teal chairs, as a side table. It’s actually kind of perfect for that.
But the pink, although I liked it pink, did not really fit with the look I was going for in the lounge, so it was time for a bit of a make-over.
I sanded it down a bit and spray painted it brass with White Knight spray paint picked up from Bunnings. It looks great and fits in a lot better with the metallic theme I’m going for in the lounge.
It’s still got a few chips and I probably should have taken all the paint off the top so it was a nice finish, but I like it. Not being perfect shows it has had a life before; it adds character. If it becomes an issue, I’ll strip the paint completely and do it again. Because this stool ain’t going anywhere.