I know, right?
But this one clearly likes cheap coffee and cares very deeply about their aesthetic vision. Like, they are committed to this aesthetic!
OK, so technically this story comes from just outside of Oxford, but it’s still got an ‘OX’ postcode and thus I am still counting it! So, I’m meeting a friend in one of those generic coffee chain shops (you know the ones, insert your preferred name her), and while we’re chatting away, we look over and something catches our eye. Something looks distinctly out of place…
I know it doesn’t really show in this photograph, but all the rest of the furniture in this place is coffee-chain standard. Brown pleather tub chairs, chunky dark brown wooden chairs, tables that are all just slightly the wrong height and have four legs of totally different lengths for maximum spillage of hot drinks? You know, the usual.
And then there it it.
A rustic farmhouse kitchen table and suitable chairs.
There are no other chairs like this in the whole place. There is nothing even remotely similar in terms of tables. Nothing – absolutely nothing – about this table and chairs combinations says ‘I belong here and I fit in.’
As someone who can often feel awkward and embarrassingly out of place in public, it is an unending comfort to me to know that wooden tables can clearly sympathise. Look at it; you can practically hear it apologising for taking up so much room.
Now, as soon as we spotted this poor out-of-place table, my friend and I started asking the obvious questions: How did it get here? Why is it still here? Who thought that this table belonged here in the first place?
I mean, it’s obvious, right? Some wizard had to go and get themselves some quick coffee, paid for it, went to grad a seat and had a fit about the generic decor. Wizards; so high maintenance.
Of course, being a wizard, they naturally had the power to amend matters to their own satisfaction and behold! One farmhouse table and accompanying chairs are suddenly sitting, presumably very confused, in the coffee shop. Naturally, this is Oxford, and no one questions it. I mean, where do you think this is? Somewhere that actually questions magical happenings? Cambridge, presumably.
Was it a wizard convention that all descended on this coffee shop together, looked around and then backed each other up about the generic decor of terribleness? This has a certain weight to it; one lone wizard might grumble away to themselves over their cheap coffee, but six could probably hype each other up until the only solution to this interior fashion disaster is to throw magic around until you have an inexplicable table.
I hope they didn’t think that the magic table counted as a tip for the wait-staff. Because it does not, wannabe Gandalf! Pay them with actual money like a normal person!
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