I have spent the last couple of days in flat-pack hell.

Yesterday was like an episode of Challenge Anneka or something. After getting home from work I had to dismantle a large wardrobe in a small room. I think the wardrobe may have even been larger than the room it was in; it certainly felt like that. Then I had to assemble a new, smaller, wardrobe with drawers in it, and I had a deadline because we wanted to get out to the anti-BNP meeting.

I did actually manage it, and even managed it without the normal tantrums and bursts of inventive swearing that flat-packs usually generate, but it used up a lot of my spare time, so I was looking forward to a lazier evening today.

So I was a bit put out to get a phone call saying that Charlie’s new bed had arrived. He was obviously pleased, as he could see that he might not have to sleep on a mattress on the floor any more. The bed was a real pain in the arse though. It is all metal, even the slats, meaning a huge pile of nuts, bolts and washers to keep dropping, but went together easily enough until I started putting the slats on.

These slats are tubular metal which bolt onto the frame, or rather they would bolt onto the frame if the bolts were just a little bit longer so enough poked out for the nuts to screw onto. It required some creative use of the Mole wrench to flatten the ends of these poles. I shouldn’t have to do that. These things must be churned out in the thousands so why can’t they make all the pieces so they actually fit?