Mrs. Hippy and I have been shopping for our forthcoming co-habitation this week, necessitating many visits to the big blue & yellow box at Brent Park. If our relationship survives this it’ll survive anything: one more meatball dinner or twenty minute walk to buy a plate at the far end of the rat maze and I’m going to flip. Scandhoovians pastimes such as alcoholism and suicide are starting to seem mighty appealing.

I’ve suggested she make it up to me by buying a rubber coated sofa but “wipe down” isn’t on the list of preferred attributes for living room furniture, apparently. I blame Laura Ashley for this shocking lack of foresight amongst the modern furniture purchasing public.