Sitting comfortably?

You will be pleased to know that everything went well with my move and I am happily installed in my dwelling, brimming with contentment now that I have my own little cave to shuffle about in. All that remains is the installation of a good size telly and a sofa to stare blankly at it from. Noone wants to visit me until I have a good size telly to drown out my blather, so priority-wise the sofa has taken a back seat.

Yes that pun was intentional. Don't judge me.

My brilliant brother has acquired a television for me from a website called 'freecycle', which I believe is much like ebay, only instead of bidding money you win things by typing 'mine' in the largest lettering. The only sticking point is that it is an old style cathode-tube set (the box type) which being that it's a 28inch screen is going to prove something of a 'feature' in the living room. I have a feeling that when I switch it on there is going to be a loud hum, the lights will go dim and my skin cells will quiver and burst like Sigourney Weaver's eggs in 'Ghostbusters'. On the plus side, I won't have to squint when I'm bashing zombies on the head with a cricket bat whilst playing 'Left 4 Dead 2'.

So now I need to get a sofa. I have been reminded that a sofa from the old family home is still locked up in a garage in darkest Cambridgeshire. The trouble is I remember it being a bit near to the end of its life when it last saw daylight so I am very tempted to get a nearly-new one from the nearly-new furniture place around the corner from my flat. My logic for this is simple: I don't want to have the palava of hiring a van to go and bail out the currently imprisoned sofa, break my back getting it into my flat only to have a spring make a break for freedom and impale my unmentionables after a week's use. The final revenge of the Couch of Monte Cristo. However, I know for a fact that noone has died on that one, wet themselves on it, or attempted to hide the body of a dead prostitute amidst its springs. Always a risk with second-hand furniture.

Or I could simply not have any visitors and live out my days in my pants on a beanbag, surrounded by empty cans of Stella Artois, eating crisps and bashing zombies on the head with a  cricket bat. As of last week, this has been working for 29 years.