1960s telephone table

Today I went to BHASVIC car boot sale, looking for small things - a old but working watch, some desk storage, perhaps a little something pretty...I bought a 1960s telephone table.

I ummed and ahhed about how I was to get it home, but luckily the man selling it was a friendly chap, and offered to drop it round for just £2 extra, bringing the grand total to £12. Take that Snoopers...


Unfortunately, someone had tried to pimp my telephone table (it was always going to be mine) by reupolstering the seat with some ill-advised material - shiny, crinkly and spotty. The colours were all wrong for the flat too, ours being a red and orange home.


However, Mr Table Man told me that this was covering the original black vinyl - and seemed quite surprised when I said that I would much prefer that - so I set to work with my screwdriver and pink jewellery pliers, taking the table apart and performing some arduois staple surgery.


There were moans, there were accusations of drama queening and there was a tiny, weeny tantrum when I screwed the seat back on to the wrong end of the table top.

But the job only ended up taking an hour and was pretty damn satisfying, especially when the staples came out whole (similar to when you're extracting a splinter) and the simple and sleek black seat was revealed.


My collection of winter boots is now residing in the slide cupboards, the BT box is hidden and Irish will no longer have to sit on the toliet lid when on the phone to his family. A happy day.