New Chair

Patrizia is going to move to London School of Economics to go on with her PhD there. Before she left Glasgow for good, she came back to the department to tie up some loose ends. To her surprise, she could still receive her stipend for October 2006. A German true to her bones, she said to me: "What am I going to do with this money? I've got GBP 1,000 in my bank account but in actuality I'm broke."

"Why don't you use the money first and then send a cheque back to the department when you've got paid from your tutoring in London?" I proffered an interim solution.

"I got paid every 2 weeks alright," she said. "But I'd really want to set the records straight here. I just wanna everything clear-cut."

Then I saw her carrying a huge backpack full of books that she had borrowed from the library. "I'm going to drive to London tomorrow and I'd like to return all these damn books today." She had taken all these books to London just 4 days ago for her pilot visit there, hoping to use them for her MRes dissertation on her way to and from London. Eventually she managed to finish her MRes dissertation, but had not had time to submit it. She gave me a call, but since I had not switched on my mobile for days, she couldn't get in touch with me. In desperation, she sent an email to Linda, attaching the dissert file with it, and asked for her help to print it out using the department printer. Then she requested Linda to help her bind the thesis in hard covers, promising to pay her back when she returned from London.

Now that everything was settled, she still had one thing bothering her. "Would you like to have my leather-faced black chair?" she asked in her text message to me. "I don't want to leave it behind to the next occupant of my flat. You can have it for free."

But the problem is: I already had one, in fact, an identical one with the same brand and colour in my room. In fact, we both bought our chairs from the same retail outlet: the Staples.

"How much did you pay for it?" I was curious, as I knew she had bought it much earlier.

"About 50 quids," she said. "The original price was about GBP90. I bought it less than 6 months ago."

"That's quite a bargain," I said, although mine was even cheaper. In any case, I had just bought my chair in mid September. Staples must have been liquidating the stock for some time now. "OK, take it to my place and see if I can find someone in my block who needs a chair then."

Then to my place she drove her car, with the black leather-faced, high back, chair tucked in the back seat. Now I understood why she didn't want to take it down to London: there simply wasn't enough space in the Toyota for her other belongings if the chair went in as well.

I tried her chair. In all honesty, it was more comfortable than mine. Perhaps the seat was a bit used to her body shape after 6 months to make itself more ergonomically agreeable to any human body shape now.

But there was a small problem: there was a residue of cigarette smell all over the chair. I know Patrizia is a chain smoker. She must have been sitting on this chair, smoking her cigarettes one after another, and another...

I kept her chair in my room for just one night. During that night, I could detect the cigarette smell even in my dreams.

The next day evening, I chanced to meet some of my flatmates in the kitchen.

"Hey, do you guys fancy a black-leather comfy chair in your rooms?" I asked, jokingly.

Yannis, the Greek, shot me an apprehensive and dubious look, half-expecting me to offer something for sale at a price much higher than its true value.

"I've got a chair whose owner is going to London. It's an office/study chair which is exactly what I'm having now in my room," I explained.

"But we've got our study chairs already," smiled Max the dental student. "Anyway, there's not enough space in our rooms for so many chairs!"

"Oh yes there certainly is!" I argued. "I got 4 chairs in my room now."

Max was the more daring one between the two to try. "Well, let's have a look and see how your 4th chair looks."

I returned to my own room, and fetched the chair back to the kitchen.

"Ahh... it looks quite good," said Max.

I wasn't surprised by his reactions. In fact, I knew it for sure that anyone would like the chair once they cast an eye on it. I kept my cards to my chest.

"Try it and see if you like the feeling, " I encouraged Max to sit on the chair, which he did.

"It's quite comfy too," he exclaimed.

"Well," said I. "If you like it, you can have it ... for FREE." Immediately I could detect Yannis's jaws falling. He was wearing either his surprise or remorse on his face.

"My friend gave it to me free. So you can have it for free too, if you like it," I explained. I remembered the sermon this morning at church: Ubi caritas, et amor. Ubi caritas, Deus ibi est.

My dental friend was apparently overjoyed for such a gift. "However," I cautioned him, "the only concern with this chair is: its former owner is a chain-smoker. So it has the smell of cigarettes all over the place."

"There's a little indeed,"Max agreed. He didn't want to relinguish such a nice chair. "But it's no problem. Maybe some freshener will get rid of the smell alright." I almost forgot Max had been immune to pungent smells, as he had been spending days in days out at the anatomy lab dissecting corpses and dead fleshes.

Gleefully, he pushed his new gift back to his room. "Thanks!"

While his last word echoed in the kitchen, I could only hear the sermon that I had received from St. Simon's this morning: Where there is charity and love, our Lord is also there.