Before a move to the USA my wife and I lived here - Shropshire England.
Here's the funny story behind my first coffee table:
We followed our timber merchant into his muddy field, where my wife and I found a stunning piece of English Oak. Riddled with paw prints from the owners cats, it could have been there for years...
“I’ll take it” I said, “But can you cut it in half”.
Bracing myself for the final figure and knowing that a 4 feet long, 2 feet wide and 2 inch thick piece of England's finest wont be cheap, we followed him back on his tractor.
I decided to get to know the man. A quirky and stout chap with a Russian cossack hat and a ripped old woolen sweater knitted by mrs man to keep out the cold this winter. We bonded immediately on stories of long forgotten woodwork and tales of our respective fathers exploits... After 45 minutes of banter and the 2nd log on his open fire in a makeshift cabin came a “Come on now then, hit me with it, what’s the damage” I said... With a weathered look and a 3 day unshaven chin scratch came, “How does £45 ($74) sound to you...?, “Yeah I think we can manage that”...
...and that was the beginning of a piece of furniture that will be a part of my family for generations to come.
Behind each piece there’s a story, you’ve just got to want to see it.