This poignant image of furniture dumped on a Glasgow street spoke loudly to me. I wondered about its previous life, the service it had given, and now with its back to the building, how it appears outcast, warned to dare not look back.

The scene brought back strong memories of nights at (Great) Aunt Mary’s in London. Mary lived in a tiny council flat but that didn’t stop her entire extended family from visiting at the same time. There was never enough furniture and so kitchen chairs would migrate to the lounge and one was always parked next to Mary sat in her armchair from where she would hold court. The TV might also be on playing to itself in the corner. They were fun nights, filled with stories and gossip, even the occasional song from my tipsy grandad. Pure bliss.