Growing up, I was lucky enough to live in a multi-generational home. My Grandmother died when I was in my early teens, cancer, and my Grandfather was struggling, living on his own. Oh, he could cook, do his own laundry and so on, but after a while it became clear that he wasn’t looking after himself very well. He was living in a 3-bedroomed council house, as were we, with my mother. They approached the council, and offered to swap the 2 houses, for one 4-bedromed house. I can’t remember how long it all took, but the move was very exciting. A lot of my grandparent’s furniture came with my grandfather as it was of much better quality than the furniture we had. Besides, it was a much bigger house and extra furniture was welcome. I well remember him crying when we were deciding what furniture to keep, and it shocked me at the time, as I’d never seen a grown-up cry before. Apparently, he was so grateful that we wanted the furniture as it meant things he and my grandmother had bought, would still be cherished, and used.

So, the household now consisted of my grandfather, my mother, and my three siblings. There were teething problems, but mostly it was a household that worked well and personally, I loved having him live with us. He had a keen eye for a bargain, and I remember one day he came home from work – he had a part time job as a packer in a garment firm – with half a pig carcass over his shoulder. Cardiff had all sorts of businesses back then, and he got a bargain as it hadn’t been jointed yet. Despite being mildly appalled by the sight, I still watched him joint, bag, and freeze the meat and over the years, I’ve done the same with lamb, pork, and even a quarter of beef carcass.

We grew up, and relationships formed, children were born, though we often all got together at that house for Sunday lunch when we were 4 generations at the same table. I have very fond memories of those times and the dining table that once groaned with food at my grandparent’s house, now sat in my mother’s house and again, groaned with food to feed around 10 people on a good day. As the family grew, it became necessary to stagger get-togethers for Sunday lunch as we numbered 17 at one point. The table was a good size, but it wasn’t that big! Lol.

After grandad passed away, my mother wanted new furniture and grandad’s table now sits in my kid sister’s kitchen and is used every day. In some ways, I’m surprised it’s lasted as long as it has. I think it must be an oak table as my grandparent’s had good taste, and it has those ‘leaves’ that can be pulled out to make the table bigger. I do know that my sister loves that table, and the original chairs, and I doubt she’ll ever part with it.

I watch programs, sometimes, whereby families are downsizing, and the host is often perplexed that people want to keep old furniture and it often limits what they can move to. For myself, the house move of a few years ago had to be of a size suitable for my own dining table, and my ‘old’ pine bedroom furniture. Like my grandfather’s table, my furniture is of good quality and more importantly, there are happy memories attached to this furniture.

Money can buy lots of things, but it can’t buy happy memories, and I know which I would prefer.