It is 10am on the first (and only) lie-in of the week. The doorbell rings and my boyfriend leaps from the bed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm and bounds down the stairs like an excited puppy. Something, I think as I prop myself up on my pillows, is decidedly wrong with this picture.

Moments later he is struggling up the stairs holding a large box which, I subsequently discover, contains a 42 inch plasma screen television. All is suddenly clear. Some twenty minutes later we are sitting, on opposite sofas, staring at this new leviathan in our midst. An hour later still, nothing has changed. In such a short space of time our relationship has been distilled into this no-man’s land of technology over romance. We have access to every channel known to man, and yet, we are doomed.

From this day forward we are destined to be governed by the omnipresent God of computer wizardry, gangling hither and thither between reality and cyberspace-never the ‘twain shall meet. But, on the plus side, the hotly anticipated next series of Game of Thrones will look pretty badass on the new HD purchase…(Shallow? Me? Absolutely). Maybe having a big TV isn’t so bad after all…