I think I got this sofa in 1994 or so - a friend of mine phoned up, knowing I wanted a sofa, and having seen one. She arranged for it to be delivered. Cut forward a couple of days, and I come home from work at lunchtime to receive it.

Somehow we managed to get it up the stairs and around the corner (which was achievement enough). And through the front door (although it was a bit of a squeeze). But halfway down the corridor it jammed. The delivery man and I spent half an hour trying to get it through the door at all angles, but to no avail.

So I had to go back to work and leave it, hanging at 45° in my corridor. I imagined that I was going to spend the rest of my life crawling under it to get into the living room.

A friend came over in the evening, and we dismantled the door and finally got it in. Close run thing, though.

So it's sat in my living room from then until a short while ago.

Another friend came over to assist in its destruction - Juan, who lived here for a year, and so had a relationship with it too. His mother even repaired parts of it, which was very good and very maternal of her, and I was very grateful.

We dismantled it with a hammer, an axe and a Stanley knife. As nicely as possible.

Actually, no, it was brutal, and messy and, eventually, done. And there was a lot more space in the living room.

Didn't get stuck in the corridor this time, though.