I have a fascination with seats, chairs, sofas, armchairs, kitchen stools … of all descriptions so I screeched to a halt the other day when I spotted a pouf footstool at one of my favourite places along the Copper Coast here in Co. Waterford.
It brought me back to my youth when I used to sit on one almost identical to this while watching television by the fire with my mother.
Significantly, the spot above Kilmurrin Cove, where this one was perched, was always a place where my mother used to recall the days when Father’s Morris Minor used to conk out half way up the steep hill. He and Mother would gather big stones to put behind the back wheels so they could get going again without a major descent back towards the Cove.
I couldn’t but think that Mother would have loved a sit down on the footstool after these dramas which were always infused with tension as Father had a major thing about cars breaking down!
I was tempted to pop it into the car and bring it home but decided to leave it for the next comer. I wonder, wonder, wonder who placed it so perfectly at that particular spot.
I often wonder now how I ever thought that my parents would be gone from my life when they died. There are just so, so many memories!