Friday 5th June 2026
I fear my small portion of history may be drawing to its close. Death appears imminent. I’ve done something so stupid, that, if discovered, the consequences will be the equivalent of being buggered with a live hand grenade. I’ll be so dead.
After lunch today, feeling diligent, I decided it was time to give the sofa and chairs in the lounge their regular dose of maintenance by applying leather cleaner and conditioner. It’s a chore, but one worth doing. I duly sprayed a generous portion of the foamy spray onto a seat cushion, my mind thinking ahead to our looming weekend away with Leo at his cottage in Cartmel, you know, thinking about what I need to pack. A ring on the doorbell interrupted my spraying, heralding the arrival of a parcel, which I took delivery of. It was a shirt I’d ordered. I was pleased it had come in time for me to take away on our trip.
Returning to the lounge, my nose wrinkled as it was assaulted by the acrid stench of bleach, but how come? Puzzled, I glanced at the bottle in my hand. The cleaner usually had a far pleasanter citrussy scent.
Holy Fucking Shit! My eyes almost sprang from my head cartoon style.
Instead of leather cleaner, I’d grabbed a bottle of foam spray bleach. It was a white bottle, same as the leather cleaner, but very different in content. I hadn’t noticed, not even the smell had registered, my mind too focussed on thinking of other things to twig I’d grabbed the wrong cleaner from under the kitchen sink.
To reiterate - I’d sprayed foam bleach onto a super expensive leather couch, and then left it to answer the door and unpack a parcel. Fucking moron.
Racing to the kitchen, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and a wet cloth, praying that I’d be in time to mop away the bleach before it did any real harm.
I wasn’t.
The seat cushion I sprayed it on is essentially ruined. I’m not too proud to say I cried. I was so shocked and dismayed, and still am. The beautiful black leather looks like it’s developed some kind of fungal condition. It’s all horrible and mottled. No amount of cleaner or rubbing has made a difference. I don’t know what to do. I’m in a dilemma. Shane has no patience when it comes to acts of carelessness, and it was careless. I should have checked before I sprayed. At best, if I confess, I’ll get a verbal roasting, and at worst, well let's say my weekend in Cartmel won’t be spent sitting comfortably. It’ll be a case of an eye for an eye, or a leather paddle on my backside for a ruined leather cushion. Not a great start to a weekend away.
At least the damage is confined to one seat cushion, and they do turn over, to allow for better wear and tear, so I suppose I can just flip it over until I can source either a replacement or find someone who can do a good restoration or repair job. We’ve had the sofa a couple of years, but I think the company is still trading, so they might be able to help. With going away for the weekend it’s easier for my deed to go undiscovered, for a while at least. It gives me chance to find a solution that doesn’t involve sacrificing my backside. Fingers crossed, I can rectify the damage before it’s ever even discovered. Ideally, the company we bought from will come up trumps, if not then I need to find a leather restorer. Wish me luck.
I fear my small portion of history may be drawing to its close. Death appears imminent. I’ve done something so stupid, that, if discovered, the consequences will be the equivalent of being buggered with a live hand grenade. I’ll be so dead.
After lunch today, feeling diligent, I decided it was time to give the sofa and chairs in the lounge their regular dose of maintenance by applying leather cleaner and conditioner. It’s a chore, but one worth doing. I duly sprayed a generous portion of the foamy spray onto a seat cushion, my mind thinking ahead to our looming weekend away with Leo at his cottage in Cartmel, you know, thinking about what I need to pack. A ring on the doorbell interrupted my spraying, heralding the arrival of a parcel, which I took delivery of. It was a shirt I’d ordered. I was pleased it had come in time for me to take away on our trip.
Returning to the lounge, my nose wrinkled as it was assaulted by the acrid stench of bleach, but how come? Puzzled, I glanced at the bottle in my hand. The cleaner usually had a far pleasanter citrussy scent.
Holy Fucking Shit! My eyes almost sprang from my head cartoon style.
Instead of leather cleaner, I’d grabbed a bottle of foam spray bleach. It was a white bottle, same as the leather cleaner, but very different in content. I hadn’t noticed, not even the smell had registered, my mind too focussed on thinking of other things to twig I’d grabbed the wrong cleaner from under the kitchen sink.
To reiterate - I’d sprayed foam bleach onto a super expensive leather couch, and then left it to answer the door and unpack a parcel. Fucking moron.
Racing to the kitchen, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and a wet cloth, praying that I’d be in time to mop away the bleach before it did any real harm.
I wasn’t.
The seat cushion I sprayed it on is essentially ruined. I’m not too proud to say I cried. I was so shocked and dismayed, and still am. The beautiful black leather looks like it’s developed some kind of fungal condition. It’s all horrible and mottled. No amount of cleaner or rubbing has made a difference. I don’t know what to do. I’m in a dilemma. Shane has no patience when it comes to acts of carelessness, and it was careless. I should have checked before I sprayed. At best, if I confess, I’ll get a verbal roasting, and at worst, well let's say my weekend in Cartmel won’t be spent sitting comfortably. It’ll be a case of an eye for an eye, or a leather paddle on my backside for a ruined leather cushion. Not a great start to a weekend away.
At least the damage is confined to one seat cushion, and they do turn over, to allow for better wear and tear, so I suppose I can just flip it over until I can source either a replacement or find someone who can do a good restoration or repair job. We’ve had the sofa a couple of years, but I think the company is still trading, so they might be able to help. With going away for the weekend it’s easier for my deed to go undiscovered, for a while at least. It gives me chance to find a solution that doesn’t involve sacrificing my backside. Fingers crossed, I can rectify the damage before it’s ever even discovered. Ideally, the company we bought from will come up trumps, if not then I need to find a leather restorer. Wish me luck.