Mr. Mhor Constructs A Love Seat

Further to Mr. Mhor’s plans for dealing with the Apocalypse, he decided to purchase a self-assembly love seat to enhance the Mhors’ experience in their garden whilst isolating themselves.

It arrived as a flat-pack, with the usual instructions in Serbo-Croat, and I was bewildered by the number of component parts within the parcel.

Mr. Mhor looked gleefully at this conglomeration of wood, screws and odd parts which did not seem to match anything on the instruction sheet. I did say to him that I had never succeeded in putting together any flat-pack furniture. He waved me away.

In fact I may have reminded him of the time when I assembled out first baby’s cot bed, nearly forty years ago, on my own.

I never did find Cross-Dowel H.


All of yesterday evening, Mhor Cottage was covered in screws, nuts, bolts, pieces of wood and an English/Serbo-Croat dictionary.

I left Mr. Mhor to it. No good even comes of wives challenging their husbands when they are trying to assemble furniture.

This morning Mr. Mhor triumphantly announced that the Love Seat was in the garden, and that he predicted it would take the cats five minutes to pick a side each, so that they could languish in the sun.

It was also very useful for there to be a table in the middle of the love-seat, so that supplies of beer and sherry could be placed upon it.

I look intently at the love-seat and eventually uttered the immortal words, “Why is there an obvious word on the middle bit of the table?”

Mr. Mhor gave the Mustress a hard stare.

He had managed to construct the love-seat so that the manufacturer’s logo was clearly visible on the front. In other words, one of the panels was the wrong way round.

Muttering and in a fine temper, Mr. Mhor went out to the garden to rectify this undoubted error. Presumably this would take a further twenty four hours.

The Mustress went to the kitchen and started the dinner. Sometimes it is best not to labour a particular point.

Published by themustressmhor

Retired Nurse and Midwife, living in Middle of Nowhere, Argyll, Scotland.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: