You can't take my couch from me

So Elliot arrived on Saturday.

Elliot, the sofa (I'm pretty sure that it's too impressive to be called a couch) that has already been called "the beige suede aircraft carrier".

Elliot, the sofa that Purdey and Kudra are both mortified that they are not allowed to sleep on, or sit on momentarily, or look at funny.

Elliot, on whom four people can comfortably sit for an afternoon's viewing of Whedonesque sci-fi western episodes while munching on chocolate cheescake.

The problem with a massive beige suede aircraft carrier, pumpkin, is that it can look a little bare. This situation necessitated a visit to several purveyours of fine domestic wares later in the weekend in order to procure some soft furnishings to make Elliot look a little less... expansive. Soft furnishings were procured at Ishka, in various lovely shades of red, brown and pink.

It was Wordsworth himself, pumpkin, who said:

"For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils."

Given, pumpkin, this poem IS about daffodils, but it could just as easily be about the couch. Wordsworth could not have been so transported by his visions of nodding yellow flowers had he been lying on, say, a stinky uncomfortable couch that had been chewed by recalcitrant weimaraners, and was covered in bits of dog bone.

Love you