The coffee table is functional, though its intention is in the main decorative in its place in front of the fireplace. This is a room seldom frequented by the family because, sad though it may be, the television is elsewhere. As a result I, its only real inhabitant, use and abuse it as I wish within the limits of toleration set by my wife Anne.
I have the fire lit as I sit to write this and the decorative coffee table is covered with the refuse of the family. The contents of a school bag is strewn over it together with a trumpet case and a book, “Silverfin” by Charlie Higson.
The shelf underneath the table is covered with sheet music, mostly jazz that Joe and I occasionally get out and play. Joe is the other main occupant of this room. It is where he practices his trumpet. His music stand is a permanent fixture in the corner near the double doors to the conservatory.
This is a very comfortable room with three comfortable settees of varying sizes. Two of them are big enough to stretch out for a good sleep. It is also a very cool room on a hot summer’s day beautifully complementing the heat in the conservatory.
Anne likes to bring guests in here during the day, at which point the coffee table does become functional, for putting down cups of coffee in fact. She has, I think, grown accustomed to the fact that the underside is now home to the music though this wouldn’t be her preference.
This is not to say that nobody else uses the room. We just don’t typically sit in it as a family. We are fortunate to have a house that can comfortably lose a few members of this large family and even a guest or two. On the Saturday of the Lincoln Christmas Market the room comes into its own as host of the annual Davies carol singing party. Everyone gathers round the fire and sings carols until we have had enough.