We moved house (and county) last year. In the process we freed up some equity, which we resolve to use to “fae-proof” our new home. She doesn’t maliciously set out to damage things, she just.. “happens” to them. In our house, her name is now an adjective, used to explain when something has been inadvertently broken by her overenthusiasm. Unless items are exceptionally robust, they tend to fail her in-store testing.
So, we needed to replace 3 bookcases, my desk, the couch, sideboard and table. As none of these replacement purchases were going to be inexpensive, we chose to invest in well-made furniture that might last, rather than cheaper pieces that would collapse in weeks. Most of what she broke was from a Swedish store that specializes in flatpacks. The table, however, was made of teak reclaimed from a Science lab: in its first incarnation it survived schools, fires, the occasional explosion and various chemicals. If you look closely you can still see the scars from its hard life. My father rescued it from an untimely death in the 70s and made it into a nice table, where it survived multiple moves, the childhood of both my brother and myself, and use as an engineering workbench in the garage. In fact, thinking about it now, I am astounded that in 3 short years our fae managed to “happen” to it in such a fashion to render it unsafe for use as a dining room table. Finding something liable to be more sturdy took some looking and a great deal of expense.
What we ended up with was basically a large slab of solid oak, supported by steel girders that look sufficient to hold up the house. It is complimented by two benches of similar construction: myself and my husband sit on one; our daughter spends meal times scooting, sliding and spinning around on the other, pausing occasionally for a mouthful of food. We also purchased a couple of chairs, on the off-chance we have visitors brave enough to endure a meal time with us. They don’t get used much.
Upon its arrival, we awaited our fae’s reaction: She’s not always happy with changes. As it was, however, she loved this table. She loved that you could eat on it, play with it, and make a blanket fort under it. She thought it was awesome. No, seriously, awesome – to the point where, for 6 months after its arrival, if you came within a 15m radius of the house, you were dragged into the dining room to admire it. Neighbors, friends, family, the postman (actually any delivery driver), the gas engineer and the man who was there to read the water meter – they were all irresistibly hauled in to stare in bemusement at this large lump of tree, whilst this strange fae creature blinked up at them in silent expectation of their reaction. They would become more and more awkward as they floundered for the response which would release them from this unexpected challenge, before turning beseeching looks on myself or my husband for the answer to this puzzle.
Depending on who they were and how annoying they had been (in the case of the gas engineer who had taken an eternity to figure out how to fix the boiler) we would let them squirm from a bit. It was amusing.
I was almost sad when she stopped. But at least there are no more strangers suddenly appearing in the house.
Raising the Modern Fae 