So, if I had the means to buy a couch, I would buy this couch. Do not be under the illusion that I am a trust fund baby who grew up in the smokey lounge of an Oxford mens club or that I am an old Southern widower with a house full of wood paneling, game tables, and antler chandeliers.
It is my dream character couch: I am an old thoughtful Brit in and out of London inquiring about a high-profile murder in a country-shire house salon. After a long day of deduction, I crawl up on this green thing, read a case file until I fall asleep, and then after a mysterious phone call at 4 am, I rush out the door grabbing my tweed jacket hanging on the couch arm, keys and glasses in hand, and drive away before locking the door.
CQ
Nice couch!
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