The precious objects offering comfort in a world of destruction and chaos
Monday, 18 May 2026
Donna Miles is an Iranian-Kiwi columnist and writer based in Christchurch, and a regular opinion contributor.
OPINION: When my friend visited her doctor about the skin on her face becoming all flaky, she was told, after a series of examinations and tests, that her problem was that she was “overly-bothered”.
That did not surprise me. I've known my English friend for a long time. She lives in London and is one of the most moral and empathetic people I know. She worries deeply about the direction of politics in the UK, which only adds to her stress.
The wars in the Middle East irritate her deeply too. “I can't watch the news anymore,” she tells me.
Instead, she has turned to a surprising source of comfort and escapism: not gardening, not watching cute furry animals on social media, but furniture restoration.
Apparently, there are many YouTube videos of people repairing furniture with very little talking, and that is what my friend enjoys watching. She sent me one of these videos: “Obscenely filthy railway station bench restoration.” The bench was indeed super dirty, the backrest almost black. It had a crack in the leg, damaged seat plates, and signs of woodworm everywhere.
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Eighteen minutes of video-watching time later, with no spoken words and only subtitles, the bench was fully restored to its 1900s glory. Did I find it calming? Not that much - but it turns out that many people share my friend’s fascination with furniture repair. I don’t watch television, but I have since found out there is a hugely popular long-running BBC television series (nine years with hundreds of episodes) about restoring cherished family heirlooms and sentimental objects called The Repair Shop. (It also airs in New Zealand.)
Of course many people enjoy woodwork and are keen to learn new skills, but I am certain my friend has no intention of picking this up as a new hobby. She finds the process engaging and interesting, but above all she values the sense of comfort she gets from watching old furniture being restored.
I think I can understand that. In a world full of destruction and chaos, it must be emotionally satisfying to see skilful people mend sentimental and heirloom objects with patience and care.
The precious objects that carry history and family memories bring a sense of continuity - a psychological buffer against feelings of isolation and anxiety.
Caring for these objects and attempting to restore them perhaps signals that these values are still alive and cherished by many people.
I must say I am now having second thoughts about selling an old chest of drawers and a dresser that were given to us by my parents-in-law. They were the oldest objects we owned. We sold them because we didn’t have the right place for them in our renovated home. Old family furniture not only has nostalgic value; these pieces also stand in for the people who owned them previously. It is said that heirlooms often feel like they hold the essence of their previous owners, a phenomenon psychologists call spiritual contagion.
I have often thought old furniture, in general, has a stored energy that seems absent in mass-produced items. Objects made by true artisans tend to have similar energy, a soul if you like. Perhaps it is because they embody their maker’s intention and energy.
In a digital world, we tend to increasingly rely on photos and videos as vessels of memory and emotion, but unfortunately social media has polluted this experience by focusing too much on comparison and competition, turning it into another source of stress and anxiety rather than calm and comfort.
Objects are tangible and tactile - something real to touch. They offer a sensory experience that digital photos and memories can’t fully replicate.
I have held on to two precious artworks that my late father purchased on his travels to India in the early 70s. They are both cubist figurative paintings that imbue a sense of mystery and spirituality. I liked them since my childhood. When I got married, I specifically asked for the paintings as my wedding gifts and was thrilled to receive them. To this day, they are a source of comfort to me, a link to my childhood and a reminder of my father’s discerning taste.
Luckily my husband is fond of them too. He never met my dad, but I feel the paintings give him a quiet little window into the sort of person he was.
My friend’s love for furniture restoration has prompted me to make time to have the paintings cleaned and restored. It feels right to take good care of objects that bring us joy and comfort.