Rattan Chairs

Got a question? Need help?

0330 808 4447

Lines open: Mon-Fri 9am-5pm

Main Section


Auntie Faye

Posted on May 14, 2019

Auntie Faye

Good morning everyone, I hope you’re enjoying the morning. Well, are you?

I’ve been sat on the phone to my crazy Auntie Faye for an hour. I do love her, but she has some strange habits of hers. My auntie has no children, no partner, and only 5 cats – yes you read that right…5 cats! Her brown hair almost reaches her toes and hangs gracefully in dreadlocks, whilst her tie-dye skirt brushes against her tanned ankles.

My fondest memory was how when I was younger her house felt like a jungle, adventuring through the vines and crawling through the thick greasy mud just to get to the safety of her arms. Of course it never was – it was just me jumping on all her Rattan Furniture! I used to get scolded for ruining the woven furniture which she loves dearly. My auntie Faye was obsessed with the art of weaving. All her magazines were kept securely in her Rattan Magazine Basket, safe from the terror that was her niece.

Whenever I took my special dolls round to her mystical lair, she would let me sit them in the Set of 4 Rattan Coffee Table Baskets, pretending they had gone white water rafting down the thick woolen rug. My imagination was endless when it came to my Auntie Faye’s, and at the end of the day we would always have a big chicken pie on the Reclaimed Indian Medium Dining Table – my favourite!

Sometimes I was even forced to sit on the prickly rug, where she would carefully lace her fingers into my golden hair, quickly back and forth at the speed of light. It was over in a flash! I had a woven plait swanning down my back, with such detail I couldn’t move my head back. I remember Auntie Faye was proud of that for hours; I definitely wasn’t allowed to take it out until I went home the following day. She would sit on her Rattan Salsa Dining Chair weaving natural banana leaf fibers, creating baskets, chairs and even laundry baskets.

I always hated leaving her house; the tigers (her cats of course) would follow me, begging to be played with back in the wild jungle. It would break my heart. As I conclude this blog I smile happily, as she may be a crazy Auntie, but she’s my crazy Auntie.