Episode 102 – Sofa Watch 2025…

So, Saul decided to treat himself to a shiny new sofa. And as in typical Saul style, he didn’t just leave the old one out for the scrap man, he passed it on to me. A proper leather set too, with matching chairs. Honestly, it feels like I’ve gone from perching on a plank to sinking into luxury. Anything’s better than that sofa bed that’s been squatting in Dad’s old living room like a relic from a bad bedsit.

Of course, it couldn’t just be a normal, rainy Sunday morning delivery. My nephew, ever resourceful, borrowed the SuperValu delivery van, because nothing says “class” like your sofa arriving in the same wagon that hauls the weekly shop. The lads were huffing and puffing, wrestling the sofa through the rain, slipping about on the gravel, while I stood at the door pretending to be a foreman.

Then I looked up.
And there it was.
The camera.

Turned. Pointed. Watching.

Like clockwork, Bully couldn’t resist. The great Watchman of Faurel Hill, with nothing better to do than swivel his CCTV to make sure he didn’t miss a second of my sofa saga. You’d swear he was directing some low-budget soap opera: “As the Sofa Turns.”

So I did what any sane person would do,I grabbed my phone, snapped a picture of the lens glaring down at me, and gave a big wave. Smile and wave, lads. Smile and wave.

Because honestly, poor Bully must have no life. Imagine peering out from behind the curtains of technology just to watch furniture being delivered. Then again, maybe he wasn’t even upright yet. Probably still in bed, head pounding, while poor Petunia was sent up to do the herding. Some partnerships really are made in heaven or in the pub car park.

And here’s the best bit: while Bully was glued to his spy screen, I was sinking into the softest leather armchair I’ve had in years. My throne. Meanwhile, his hangover probably had him welded to his mattress. Tell me again, who’s really winning?

Message from Beyond:

Dad couldn’t resist weighing in. I could hear him clear as day, his voice half-amused, half-disgusted:

“Sweet divine… a man wasting his Sunday morning staring at a sofa. If he’s that interested in chairs, maybe he should come sit on one and shut his gob for once. I raised cattle, not cameras.”