Carpets have been part of my life for almost as long as I can remember. My Dad worked in the carpet trade from when I was a toddler and the smell of freshly laid carpet evokes my childhood in an instant. Sarah and I travelled in the back of vans on top of carpet samples in the days before seatbelts had to be worn and I've stepped on more Gripperod than is good for one person.
Today I had a carpet laid in my living room. My Dad retired from his carpet shop about 18 months ago but still has a few rolls of carpets around. He told me some time ago he had a nice neutral coloured carpete - 'good quality' as he is wont to say - suitable for my living room. My living room had bare floorboards, chic in some houses but not in a 1970s house with crappy old boards with big gaps between them where spiders like to lurk.
What colour is the carpet we asked. 'Sort of brown', 'neutral' , 'beige' my Dad - notoriously cavalier about colours - said. So today the carpet arrived. It wasn't brown and it wasn't neutral either, nor was it beige. No, it was that special sort of beige that some of us call green! Not a particularly offensive green but green nonetheless. But it's free and 'good quality' of course so down it went. The room has that lovely new carpet smell that I love so much (although I understand that it's to do with the chemicals in the carpet - not so nice) and does look cosy.
A song for my carpet.