I just read tommo's post: "Memories seen to slide, time frames get muddled, the order of things and the context gets somehow the written, the felt-truth subsumes the facts."
So true.
I'm pretty sure there was a special chair for when Mrji came to satsang (he never did) and a chair for normal plebes. When satsang ended in Brisbane we ended up with a classy cane chair because my wife was a workaholic service premie. She would never have taken something without permission. Now I can't remember if it was a Mrji chair or I just made that up for fun, it was after all 40 years ago. It wasn't very comfortable but I liked having it to fart onto.
