It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing...

I may have mentioned somewhere that our garden is a work in progress. That's not quite accurate. Our garden had a major revamp in 2005 and looked fab for about two years. Then Life took over somewhat and the garden was left to its own devices for a bit.
As a consequence we have a wilderness garden of David Attenborough proportions. Billions of birds zip about chasing the trillions of insects zipping about the gazillions of weeds. It's all very eco friendly and tie dyed looking. I wouldn't be surprised if a flock of hairy druids or long lost hippies were lurking in the shrubbery.

Once or twice we've had a bash at weeding, digging, sorting and tidying but I think now even the worms are sniggering at our feeble attempts. It's all very embarrassing. Where once our garden was the envy of the neighbours, they may now grow 40 ft Leylandii simply to block out the mayhem we've created. Can't say I blame them.

In an effort to reinvigorate my drive to enhance our 'outdoor living space' I've decided to treat myself to a garden swing. In my head I see a wooden porch at sunset with a long cool drink to sip as I gently swing upon comfy cushions and a handmade quilt. [I may have been overly influenced by The Waltons as a child and sadly, the coal bings of Fife are not quite the snowy topped mountains of Virginia.] Thus, I've been wandering happily through garden centres in search of The One. By this, I mean my dream swing seat.

To some extent I've felt a bit like Goldilocks. Some swing seats were too large, others too small, yet others too ugly. [There are some bizarre cushion patterns out there in the big bad world of horticulture and leisure you know. Some truly migraine inducing designs - not good.]
I had my heart set on a stylish but sturdy wooden model but the price tag was colossal. I should have been able to buy the whole damn porch with house and mountain thrown in for the price asked.
Recovering my composure, I moved on to another wooden, delightfully rustic swing seat. This one was compact and bijou although the price was only marginally smaller than the original. I moved on again.
With each reduction in cost came a step away from the dream. Eventually I considered the metal framed models. Yuck. Most of them looked like engineering homework projects fashioned by 14 year olds. One though stood out for good reasons. It had a double swing seat which meant two occupants could swing individually or in sync.
I liked it. A lot.
I found myself chuckling and mentally racing Normski. This was the Red Rum of swing seats. [You can reach a fair speed on a swing seat if you try hard enough.]Things got a bit out of hand. A small crowd gathered - to cheer me on I assumed...

NB: Managers in garden centres take a dim view of exuberant use of garden furniture.