On Saturday I found myself at a home occupied by Young Professionals. This was evident by the size (48") and quality (HD) of the television in the living room. It occupied prime position, pretty much as proper hi-fi might have done thirty years earlier, defying everything else to make the best of whatever space remained.
My parents' generation preferred TVs that could be pushed into a corner, preferably disguised as traditional items of furniture. In my flat-renting days TVs were distressed portables, the signal often delivered by an arrangement of wire coat hangers. New ones were too expensive to buy and so they were rented.
Whenever I catch "lifestyle" programmes on television I am left with the impression that the majority of the nation now live in a converted terrace house with a living room knocked through to the kitchen. The floors have been stripped and polished and the fireplace is occupied by a big flat screen TV. What was previously a source of actual warmth is now replaced by a flickering digital version of the same thing.
This is not to say I wouldn't like the 48" HD. I would. I have, however, been married long enough to know that I would be left to enjoy it on my own.