When Rob and I first moved house and into a new home, certain deficiencies were immediately apparent: wardrobes had no shelving at all, just oodles of hanging space. They needed shelves.

There were spaces left beside various pieces of kitchen equipment that clearly needed shelves or cupboards.

The garage was a great space but totally devoid of any shelving, so measurements were taken and trips to shelving places that offered a variety of shelving styles needed to be planned.

Off we set. It all seemed quite simple initially as the measurements we brought with us matched the widths and heights we were looking for with various shelving, and gradually we tackled one room after another to get things sorted.

This is where the problems began. For those of you who have tackled a similar problem to Rob and I, you will know exactly what I mean.

It all came in flat packs. The instructions provided to put these seemingly innocuous pieces of shelving together were anything but clear or precise in their descriptions of how to join A to B to C and how to screw E into F, with diagrams that were way too complicated.

It always ended unhappily … frustration, anguish and angst, pointed silences and, even when eventually successful, it came at a price.

All that was a memory buried in the past when three years down the track I was sucked in again. I arrived home with a flat pack. I should have known.

I took one look at Rob’s anguished face and knew it spelled trouble.

It was an apparently simple pot plant stand, three shelves, nothing complicated … until we discovered a heavy preponderance of screws and nuts and a couple of serious  screwdrivers and 13 (yes, I said 13) pages of explanations on how to fit A to B to C.

“ It’s three simple shelves”, I said weakly.

Many cups of tea, the odd beer and several hours later we were done.  I have no idea how people on their own manage because I was constantly called on to “hold this, hang on to that”, “straighten that leg up”.

Afterwards I would retreat to another room as far as possible from the scene of the action until I was required as an assistant once more.  Eventually, the flat pack took shape as a simple pot plant holder.

I can accept that the sensible and reasonable thing to do, considering the space all these different pieces of furniture take up on a shop floor, is to pack each as flatly as possible for reasons of storage space.

But could the explanations of constructing each flat pack be done more simply, more precisely?

Alternatively perhaps we all need lessons at Flat Pack school on how to put together a flat pack. Perhaps it could be a core part of the marriage contract.

I promise to love, honour and know how to competently assemble a flat pack without resorting to bad language or medicinal and other properties designed to dull the pain and hopefully enhance brain activity.

Whatever the answer, I have absolutely promised Rob, scout’s honour, no more flat packs. Ever!

ANNIE YOUNG