I didn't choose the camp chair life, the camp chair life chose me... | Jack Marshall's column

Under a tweet reading ‘grown-ass men really be living like this’ will be a picture of a living room entirely empty save for a flat screen TV on the floor at which is pointed a camp chair cradling a bloke eating cereal.

These are genuinely funny memes because they’re extremely true. And while I’m sure the camp-chair-cereal-watching-cartoons life is one heartily enjoyed by women as well, it’s a classically, steroetypically male thing to do. And I can say that because the camp chair life has been one I've enjoyed for the past month or so.

Basically, DFS haven’t delivered my sofa yet.

Would it be fair to say that, as a result, the camp chair has been enjoying the limelight slightly more than usual? Yes. Would it also be true to say that, before moving into my new place, one of my more immediate priorities was to secure an excessively large television on which to watch (amongst other, more grown-up things, rest assured) the odd cartoon? Yes, yes it would.

To complete the unholy trifecta, I have also been trying to get fitter in lockdown and so the odd bowl of porridge has been eaten in said camp chair. Combine these three factors and add in a dash of logistical supply line reality in the form of most of my furniture not having been delivered until about three weeks into my living here, and I’m a living, breathing, camp chair-sitting manifestation of an internet joke.

And it’s been pretty good.

The hardest thing has been resisting the urge to grow attached to the little beer can-holder in the camp chair because, alas, sofas don’t have those. And they’re a damn handy place to stick the remote when you’re watching The Great British Bake Off on catch-up and want easy access to the fast-forward button to speed through the ads. Fine, I’ll admit it: I’m attached to the beer can-holders.

But soon the sofa will come. Every other piece of furniture has been delivered, unpacked, constructed, and is in its place. From the bed frame (yes, the mattress was on the floor for a fortnight or so) to the bookcases, it’s all ready. There’s a coffee table waiting for its sofa and having to make do with a camp chair. A camp chair complete with a beer can-holder, that is.