The very phrase Lloyd Loom conjurs up one vision for me. It's a wicker nursing chair that my grandmother had many years ago. In fact as my mother's in her nineties, the chair must have been bought in the early twenties. It had been painted several times by the time it rached our custodianship. When it came to us, painted a custard shade of yellow, it was also squeaking as if in protest at the prospect of anyone sitting on her. The chair had been bought in a famous furnishing establishment in Oxford Street and as it's so unbelievably heavy, for a wicker chair, it must have been delivered by the store - you could hardly waltz along the busy London streets carrying that under one arm! It was much treasured, especially in its later life when the values of such artefacts were known from watching various antique and collectables programmes!