Of television and mayonnaise

A television. A stash of mayonnaise. No compromise.

At some time in your life you have asked yourself, or your partner, or your children, or maybe your children have asked you, "if we had to start all over again and pennies mattered, what would be the most important things for the new house"?

Survivors have had to face that question. Survivors whose personal landscapes have been irrevocably changed by forces of nature, war, and personal tragedy. Most of the rest of us whimsically speculate with the fleeting interest that comes and goes with those in-car "I Spy" moments. My circumstance is more to do with what I deserved than elemental cataclysm or divine intervention, however like real survivors I find myself answering this question for real too.

As the undisputed head of our new household, decisions are mine to make. My job is simple. I do not have to agree with a partner. I do not have to contest a partner's ego. I just have to draw up a list, and prioritize. Everything will happen. It is just a matter of time. Without Legal Aid, sooner. With Legal Aid, later. Where to start?

My eldest daughter has managed without a wardrobe to hang her clothes in for a year. Her immediate reward for enduring my patient pursuit of judicial sanction is a matching wardrobe, chest of drawers, and dressing table and mirror. She is not effusive about polished mahogany, on the other hand her lady logistics are in place. My youngest daughter "shotgunned" her room the moment she saw it, so she is happy too. It features two "walk in" closets. Walk in closets? Such a claim would be a bit of a stretch for most grown ups to imagine, but she really can walk in to her closets, and her extravagant imagination has mapped her lady logistics down to the very coat hangers that her clothes will hang from.

From this point, the rest of the household inventory must be acquired. Where from? Car boot sales, stores, hand me downs, and even from what might once have been such seemingly indulgent frivolities as antique shops, and those warehouses with acres of fixtures and fittings stripped from households with stories of their own and priced with no evident reason at all. Perhaps I have to turn my hand to some furniture restoration. I can do that. In short, it is a time for ingenuity. It is time consuming business. Sometimes you make mistakes. You probably do not make as many mistakes as you did the first time you put a house together.

So much is irrelevant, though. Let's cut to the quick. What matters most? What is the lowest common denominator that makes a home? As it happens, two things are sufficient to make a home. First, foremost, and without compromise, is a television. Second hand will not do. Reconditioned will not do. Size is negotiable, but flat screen LCD is the minimum standard. HDTV ready, of course. Second, the kitchen. The girls uncompromisingly require fridge, freezer, microwave, toaster, kettle, rice maker, bread oven, complete stock of herbs, spices and condiments, and a complement of utensils that really only can be acquired over a lifetime. As a family of culinary afficianados, we never used the knives that you buy at grocery stores, and it is a credit to the girls' humility that they will (momentarily) tolerate Tesco's branded knives.

They are prepared to sleep on the floor. They will contrive seated comfort. They will indulge their father's profligacy and allow him his first king sized bed in four years, in polished oak. They are even prepared to live without broadband for a couple of weeks. They will wash dishes (?). They will happily survive. With a new television set.

The next time you ponder the question, now you know the answer. Whatever they say in-car, or at the dining table, when the chips are down, dignity is an LCD flat screen television, HDTV ready, and if I am asked again whether I have stashed Hellman's mayonnaise (in a squeezy bottle) in the kitchen cupboard in time for the May 1st launch I am going to go off on what is colloquially known as a bender.