Poor Frank

I'm watching Cash in the Attic, as I sometimes do on Sunday morning, and the 60-year-old widower who wants to take up scuba-diving is being laughed at by the host, expert, and his own daughter, for his affection for a couple of florid hand-painted Staffordshire vases that have been living in his closet. He bought them at auction and loves them, but his wife hated them... While they're bullying him into putting urging him to put them into the auction (I'm seeing a scuba mask!) the host says "They just seem so out of keeping with the rest of the furnishings here."

Frank doesn't respond to that, but I can't help but think: perhaps those gaudy vases are the only thing in the house that actually reflect his taste. He's put a very high reserve on them (three times the estimate!) and I hope they don't sell. He's so very fond of them.

Ha! They doubled their estimate, but didn't make their reserve. "You don't mind taking them home, do you?" says the host. "He wants to take the home!" the daughter accuses. "We should have sold them; sixty-five pounds. We should have sold them."

But Frank's just smiling. "No," he says simply. "I'm glad."

Me, too.