Meet Bruce

... he lives next to the window in my bedroom. That's where my treasured pieces are squashed.

Bruce is the Chesterfield armchair I bought for £50 from an elderly chap called, erm, Bruce. He was downsizing and moving into a retirement bungalow. We met on Preloved, a tidy website where people get rid of things they love to buyers who will love them just as much. Like me.

I squeezed him (Bruce the chair, that is) into a tiny hatchback boot as poor Bruce (the man) shouted 'Mind the leather.' Clearly a cherished relic.

The Union Jack cushion (a BHS bargain) isn't cherished by my housemate Hannah. Something to do with BNP connotations, perhaps.