Flat pack world

It had been decreed that there would be a new stand for our relatively new television, all 26 inches of it. So we search Kingston to no avail. Furniture shops do not appear to sell such things. Nor even the charity shops. But we then search Guildford to find a shop which sells televisions and can let us have a catalogue from an outfit which sells the stands to put them on. An outfit called Alphason. This leads to a long discussion about the stand which will best fit in with the décor in the extension, a long discussion which leads us to another outfit called the Plasma Centre.

We search their online catalogue to find a natty little number called an Alphason Cordoba in Walnut with Black Sides. Not in the first catalogue. But not only is the thing a snip at just under £90, the design appears to work with our rather modest television. A lot of the designs are clearly intended for something far grander. Flash the plastic and in seconds I have two emails confirming the order. Some hours later another email telling me that my order has been packed. Next an email telling me that my order has been dispatched. Then one saying that it had reached the Birmingham Distribution Centre. By Monday morning one saying that it would arrive that day between 1530 and 1630.

That day being Halloween. Also a day when the DPD driver who had been assigned to our television stand called in sick. With the result that a rather harassed relief driver turned up at 1730 complaining that no-one would open their doors to him for fear of Halloween revellers, with the further result that he still had 30 to 40 packages in his van. Most of which were going to still be there the following morning, whatever it might have said in the corresponding emails. Still, we had got our package within an hour of the stated time. Surprisingly heavy it was too.

Get it onto the dining room table and open the thing up. Much elaborate packaging, cunningly designed to stop pickpackages stealing fixtures to make up numbers. Numbers which needed making up because they had carelessly let some of their own fixtures roll under the cooker or whatever. Down a drain. A practise which I learned about after the event, during a celebration visit to TB. Back at the flat pack, I extract five plastic blobs, two heavy bits of walnut finished chipboard, one bit of black glass, one plain bit of black chipboard, two fancily shaped bits of black chipboard, one plastic bag full of fixtures and one set of instructions in six languages. Avoid drain by emptying the fixtures into a large mixing bowl from the kitchen and get to work on the instructions.

Off to a flying start by screwing the plastic blobs which serve as very short legs to the underside of the base board. Continue by fixing the central support, this being the plain bit of black chipboard. Pause to wonder at how clever these chipboard fixtures have become. To do the same thing before chipboard had been invented would have been a right palaver. Possible but very expensive; the sort of thing you might see at the National Trust. Move onto the right hand support, this being one of the fancy bits of black chipboard. At this point I decide that the instructions are in error. That things would work out better if I fixed the top board at this point, rather than the right hand support. Which indeed turns out to be the case. BH deeply impressed, helps me move the finished product into the extension where it now resides under the television.

The only worry is whether the heat from the radiator - luckily at the end of the line - will do something to the left hand fancy bit bit of black chipboard. Will the heat push the black finish off the fancy chip? Only time will tell. In the meantime we are both pleased with our latest venture into the world of flat pack.

All that remains is the obligatory visit to the tip to get rid of the packaging, the instructions on which instruct us to wait for two weeks before so doing in case of problems with the product resulting in a requirement to return it.