“It’s not straight”, said my flatmate.

“Yes it is, it’s perfectly straight”, I retort.

“No, it’s definitely lower on the left than on the right”

“Look, you’re wrong. I measured it using my new retractable tape measure. It’s definitely straight”

“I’m not denying you measured it, I’m sure you did. But that picture is not straight. It’s definitely wonky, and leaving it like that is going to drive me fucking mental.”

“Go and get the spirit level then.”

“What spirit level?”

“The one in the garage that we use to check things are level”

“Why aren’t you using it already?”

“Because I’m using my new retractable tape measure.”

I’d bought a new painting, my first foray into the world of art collecting. It’s a pretty good one, in a cool contemporary – yet not in the slightest bit pretentious – kind of way. My opinion of course. It’s the first thing I’ve ever bought from a real artist. I felt ever so bohemian.

Anyway, it turns out my painting is perfectly straight. Unfortunately the room that surrounds the painting is listing ever so slightly to the right. I have a suspician that this is not going to be cheap to correct. I may consult a builder, but not until my assorted furnishings have started gathering at the south end of the room, much like the items on deck of the sinking Titanic.

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