HEATHER'S new suite

Her new sofa wouldn't fit through the door. Could Heather's day get any worse?

- Michael Donoghue

And about time too!’ Heather said, checking her watch as the furniture van pulled up.

‘You can’t complain,’ Geoff said, joining her at the window. ‘It’s arrived within your booked time frame.’

‘Only just,’ Heather sighed. When ordering her new three-piece suite, she’d paid extra for her preferred delivery time slot. The van had arrived with only seconds to spare.

‘Now what are they doing?’ she said when nobody got out. ‘Having their tea break?’

‘Patience,’ Geoff soothed, placing his hands on her shoulders. Two delivery men finally emerged. One rolled up the back shutter while the other strode up the drive with a clipboard.

‘Don’t antagonise them,’ Geoff warned when he saw that look she gave when she was angry. ‘They’ll only dump it in the drive if you do.’

Heather opened the door.

‘Mrs Anderson?’ the man grinned. ‘We have your new suite. Where would you like it?’

‘The lounge, please,’ she replied, all smiles again.

The men offloaded two armchairs wrapped in plastic, and carried them swiftly and efficiently into the house, where they placed them in the lounge.

Then the operation stalled. After they’d wrestled the sofa through the front door, they found it was too long to fit through the lounge door. The narrow hallway also meant there was little room for manoeuvre – and no amount of twisting and turning made any difference.