I risked an entanglement with Covid lockdown zealots of the North Wales Police today, crossing the border into the land of the infidel, that is to say to visit Oswestry in England. My aim was to pick up a birthday present for myself. My teenage, for a few months more, daughter Olaf thinks I am becoming a boring old man as I should be celebrating the great day at an underground gay bar in Shoreditch like all her fellow Islingtonians. Whatever…
My present was five brass candlesticks. The seller said they were Georgian. That may or may not be the case. I think they will look good on the new kitchen table at the Welsh Hovel. The perspective in the top photo is misleading. The candles are about the same height as the two taller sticks, a foot apiece. But I accept that as presents go, this may not be very hip or whatever young people say today. Just wait till Olaf hears about my other present to myself, a set of William Morris style table mats.
