A rush of desire

I'm scrubbing the vinyl floor in the kitchen. It's a place where ingrained dirt and faded pattern fight for supremacy and it's impossible to tell who's winning. This morning there's the added fun element of mysterious patches of water which appear like joke shop mirages all over the floor.

It's no good. I can't stand it any more. Buoyed by the thought of money - even less money - coming in again, I start sneakily scouring the Home and Garden section of Ebay, my consumer bible, 'The defaulter's guide to loan sharks,' on my lap.

Within seconds, I'm doing a Burglar Bill on the merchandise on offer. My head starts to spin with the sheer over abundance of it all. My desire is sharper than a knife. I experience a rush of blood to the head and saliva to the mouth.

Everything, it seems, can be built in. Washing machines, dish washers. Presumably somebody's come up with handy little nooks and crannies where you can pop the children, pets and husband on convenient, load-bearing hooks.

Soon the descriptions blur in my head. Freestanding Victorian dresser with in-line descaler? I'll have that. Self-sharpening knife drawer with lime-washed spare tyre? Oh, go on then. Butler's sink with pivoting, slightly waxed previous owner? It would be rude not to.

I show my list to Francis, with not a little pride. He studies it. "Well, you've certainly been thorough," he says. I beam with pride. "Now, all we've got to work on is the cost and the kitchen dimensions."

I wait, expectantly.

"To fit this lot in," he explains, patiently, "would need a kitchen 100 feet square and cost a fraction under £86,000."