Welsh tapestry, given as a wedding present; a green one inherited from my mother but the stool which is habitually used as a footstool in front of the TV is not a footstool. It is a real stool which is quite large enough to be sat on. As I child it was my Miss Muffet stool. My tuffet, where I sat with my little blue bowl of cereal finding the thought of curds and whey too abhorrent.
But for now the stool gives rest to weary limbs. How good it is when we can be the place of solice and comfort, a source of renewing energy for those who previously would have held us as unsuitable companions.
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