Sofa Surfeit

It’s that time of decade.  We last bought a new couch in 1993. I wish I was kidding; I’m not.  We’ve had new-to-us couches since then: a lot of new-to us couches, bought secondhand or given to us or donated by Freegle or inherited from dead parents; but we have not bought a new one since 1993.

We have had a couch each for some years now – unmatched in size, shape, style or fabric.  We sold some stuff and saved and eventually we had enough dosh for two new couches.  I demanded only identical couches with no space underneath for junk storage or stale dog pellets; the Hub demanded comfort.  As usual, I got my way.  As usual, he didn’t.

We found two lovely couches in a shop on eBay – style, colour, everything perfect. They arrived.  They were installed.  They look fabulous in the lounge.  They give you backache within five minutes of sitting on them.  The arms are too low; the back too not right in any way that counts with a couch.

We arranged a refund – hooray for seven-day returns policies! – covered them up for protection until next week’s collection, and  went out the very next day and purchased two beautiful, matching, comfortable couches from a shop, where we were able to sit as long as we liked, testing their efficacy.  They efficked just fine and all we had to do was sign on the dotted line and wait four weeks for delivery.

And so that’s how we find ourselves in the unique position of owning six couches but unable to sit on any of them: two are rain-soaked in the garden, awaiting a man in a van to take them to the dump; two are under covers in the lounge, awaiting collection (possession being nine-tenths of the law, they are ours until they are gone); two are currently under construction in a warehouse somewhere, desperate for a loving home.

Meanwhile, this six-sofa couple is sitting on tatty old deck chairs in the living room.

You couldn’t make it up.

Snippet

This is a snippet of Alex as Jamie Wellerstein in The Last Five Years.  Jamie is telling the story of Schmuel, the tailor of Klimovich.

The show was Colla Voce Theatre’s début production and it was fantastic, particularly given the venue, which was practically a dungeon (two or three storeys below ground, in an old Woolworths building).  A two-hander, Alex and his partner, Olivia Doust, had roughly ninety minutes of singing between them.  Olivia had never acted before but you wouldn’t have known.  She gave an assured performance and she has a lovely voice.  Alex was in agony: he had a throat infection and said it hurt from start to finish. He spent three days not talking, treating his voice with honey and great care.

You can read a review here: Blunt Cinema.

In other news: this week, Alex is appearing in The Forgotten Songs of Lerner & Loewe.  If you are in the Sheffield area, tonight is your last chance: details here.

There was a clip available but it won’t play, unfortunately.

He’s got two shows coming up in the summer; I’ll share details when I’m allowed.

Apologies to those who feel outraged that this humour blog has been overtaken by the Alex Cosgriff Fanzine.  What can I tell you?  I’m a proud mama. 

Speaking of which, Hairy Boy was home this weekend.  He came to visit on Friday and turned into Invisible Boy on Saturday morning, disappearing to visit his friends and reappearing in time for Sunday dinner and his train home.  At least I got to feed and wash up after him.  There’s always a silver lining.