Changing your sofa is something we do very rarely. Sofas can tell you a lot about you. You can fall into two categories, the couple with the sofa that dates back to before the children, or whose sofa post dates the moon landing. I totally understand the ancient sofa brigade, getting a new sofa is a big decision, and putting off big decisions is a very tempting human thing to do.

My sofa dates back to 1993 and has seen many family developments. This sofa was a very generous house warming present from my mum. For practical reasons we opted for a hardwearing, dark tartan covered, sofa bed, a piece of furniture I�d never have chosen for its aesthetic value. For ten months, until the first baby arrived, this sofa doubled up as our bed, until the practicalities of my being 8 months pregnant finally made it imperative we splashed out on a bed. For a very short time the sofa became just a sofa, but its reprieve was short lived. Soon it became the focus of the whole new baby business, feeding, changing, bumps and babes coffee mornings and finally, for sleeping on with babe in arms when it all got too much!

Its next reincarnation was David�s first walking aid, sofa cruising. Soon the sofa became the centre for toddler games, the tartan pattern making perfect inbuilt train tracks. The sofa was standing up well to its additional roles. Grandma could still come and stay and sleep in peace and quiet in the front room, away from teething toddler.

Next it was the centre of mock battles. Then, predictably three years later, the cycle of baby feeding/ changing and so on in addition to the small boy games. Whilst still providing that much needed soft haven at the end of a full on day for its original owners.

As the children developed the old sofa provided a perch for small bottoms whilst the bedtime story was being read, allowing one child to sit with her legs over daddies shoulders whilst the other older sibling was given to believe he still had his dads full attention.

The old sofa now supports my teenage daughter whilst she watches endless reruns of bewitched. Gradually it has acquired additional, variously sourced, scatter cushions, which soften the sagging edifice. The sofas arms have become a sorry sight to see. The hardwearing tartan has gone from thread bare to unmistakable holes over the last couple of years.

Almost imperceptibly the old sofa has become redundant as a sofa bed. The grandmas have got older and the un-sprung mattress, coupled with a wooden slate base has become untenable as a place to get a good nights� sleep. Now we are breading put you up beds that only my son or husband can transfer from attic to ground floor and so get left around in awkward places for annoyingly long periods of time.

This article is my old sofas obituary. My dear old sofa owes me nothing. It will remain in many of my most precious memories and feature in a large portion of my family photos for posterity.

But now I am going to take the plunge and make a design decision base on my taste now. I�m really looking forward to the next phase.

Goodbye old friend and thank you