Born in 20th Century Britain, loved in Dorset and rehomed to Scotland!

Last week, I sold a mahogany Lazy Susan and posted it to a sizable property on the Snaigow Estate in Scotland. But as I carefully packaged it up and depleted our supply of fragile tape, it was me who felt oddly fragile. While sales bring a certain amount of excitement, I am always slightly reluctant to part with these items to which I have formed an attachment.

Let me provide some method to my madness. My stock - whether in my possession for five minutes or fifteen years - has passed through my hands and home and there is something particularly bonding about this. As objects both predate and outlive us, the same Lazy Susan that served as my makeshift laptop stand during A-Level’s, was once the centrepiece of my grandmother’s breakfast table. In other words, this familial treasure links two individuals who sadly never had the chance to meet, and losing this connection feels rather tragic. Those antiques that I source from elsewhere have a shorter stay at Casa Landon, but I similarly struggle to let go. Often, I receive them in poor condition, and restoring them back to health becomes a true labour of love. From water damaged wood resembling patchy fake tan, to a dresser held up by the skirting board with its missing foot in fragments placed inside the cupboard door.

Following the sale of the Lazy Susan, I finally understood the saying “I’m so glad it has found a loving home”. It mattered to me that someone else appreciated the intricately carved acanthus leaf which had clearly caught my grandmother’s eye, and served as my distraction during moments of boredom while revising. I also cared that it continued to be properly looked after; treated with furniture polish, spun gently and not in contact with anything wet.

Today, I went to collect a pretty skirted bedroom chair from an elderly widower who was downsizing. I wondered if he felt the same.