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Mr Putins’ Table: Sometimes furniture tells its own story
No doubt you have seen it: Vladimir Putins’ long, oval table. I would guess that it is at least three metres long. It has, I think, three supports beneath it, saving it from looking like a misplaced suspension bridge. It is a white table, possibly embossed around the edges, although I’m not too sure about that. The main point, just for the moment at any rate, is the sheer size.
Just take a moment to consider the question: what is a table for? I can think of coffee tables, occasional tables, dining tables, gaming tables. I can recognise tables for meetings — those in government buildings or the boardrooms of large businesses. Those are large tables, of course. Usually square or oblong. Not usually oval. What all such tables share is a functional purpose. Perhaps the function is to rest books or cups or the transient detritus of modern living. Or, perhaps, they are designed to bring us together in some structured way — to meet, to work, to eat, to talk, to play. How often are they so large, so long, so unadorned as Mr Putins’ table?
It has to be assumed that the oceanic table is quite deliberate. He is in charge, after all. He must have said to someone: “That is the table I want”. It might also be assumed that no-one questioned his choice. After all, given the circumstances, who would?
