rom the birth of civilisation, man has looked for a place to rest his tired bottom. A place to relax and yet protect his domain—a place to call his. No matter the social status of the man, he can be master here, even if that authority only extends as far as the seat itself.
Some of the best examples can be found in entertainment. The greatest would be from the American sitcom Frasier: Martin Crane's battered armchair is more than comfort, it's a statement. When everything has been stripped away, it's all he has left. You can't leave out Captain Kirk's command chair either; its comparison to a throne is well established.
We shouldn't forget that Odin sits on Hliðskjálf to survey all of creation. The high seat is something we all yearn for.
I know it's a bit of a cliché, but it’s a trope that has been earned through sheer, unadulterated hard work. While it might seem like a standard rite of passage through middle age, the transition to a designated favourite chair usually comes down to a couple of practical reasons:
- Eventually, we all need proper back support, high armrests, and the exact right angle for reading or watching the telly.
- It's a great thing to have a spot reserved for winding down, having a quiet cup of tea or even a beer, and decompressing without having to adjust to someone else's seating preferences.
It's less of a stereotype and more of an inevitable, well-deserved upgrade to the daily routine. Which is why I'm keen to share with you my own new (to me) high seat. A place to rest, unwind, and survey my kingdom whilst watching the telly or drawing.
This isn't just a sudden whim, either. It’s something I’ve wanted for many years: a signature chair, a true statement piece. It may have taken a long time to get here, but finally, the high seat is mine.
It is such a wonderful feeling to know I've finally achieved a man's greatest achievement: the favourite chair.
The spirit of the Urban Viking—and the occasional absurdity of navigating the modern world—lives on in my webcomic, Northman. 
You can read the latest chapter here:
That's a damn elegant chair you've got -- looks like you stole it from a gentlemen's private club. Or perhaps I should say you pillaged it, viking that you are.
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