My father was evacuated during the war to Northumbria, and the big old Victorian pine kitchen table was central to all discussion; news; activity – everything. It was already there when they arrived, already engraved with history, but his parents took it with them when they returned home, and then he took it with him when they downsized. It was his kitchen table for a time but once children came and needed a table to sit and play at, he sawed the legs down and painted the whole thing. It then came with me – the legs sawed a bit further and all the paint removed – to become a coffee table.