Last week I rescued a little red table from a rubbish skip. In its former life it stored books in a school library. Initially I thought it would be useful in the studio to hold paints and brushes, but after a little bit of scrubbing to remove old labels and calcified chewing gum, it found its way in pride of place in our main bedroom.
I like to think that this table has a story or two to tell and not just from the canon of teenage fiction it once held - novels from the likes of Robert Cormier, Diana Wynn Jones and J K Rowling, amongst others. Over the years countless teenagers gathered around it in whispered conversations, sharing secrets, making friends.
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