I finally gave in and bought a barbeque recently.
I say "gave in" because, though I'm an affable man of few dogmatic opinions, I realised long ago that I'd never be afflicted by that peculiar modern malady which can only be healed through the purchase of a outsized camping stove.
This is uncharacteristically strong-minded of me, but I have my reasons. Barbeques are expensive, they take up a lot of room, and as a sedentary slob who needs no excuse to dodge exercise, I can't think of anything more profoundly wrong than a device which, when a sunny afternoon comes along, replaces the natural instinct to go swimming or kicking a football with the lunatic ambition to torch the crap out of slabs of animal fat and force them directly into your arteries.
So what changed my mind? Well, they're cheap now, for a start. Mine was reduced from €969 to just 57c, and in fact the man in the shop would probably have paid me to take it away if I'd haggled. Times are tough for vendors of useless contraptions that look about as sensible in these post-Tiger days as alloys on a Massey.
I guess I was affected by a touch of heatstroke too. With July 4th coming up – arrived, now – the notion of a big family gathering over some sizzling steaks had a certain Yankee Doodle appeal to it. I've always loved those bins full of ice and beer bottles that you see in American TV shows, and this seemed like a good excuse to put one together.
But having christened my barbeque last weekend my historic disinterest has come screaming back. Revelation number one was that you have to assemble them yourself. Sure, we assemble lots of stuff these days, but that IKEA bookshelf under the stairs isn't likely to explode and kill granddad if you leave a few clips out. Revelation number two, which admittedly everyone except me probably already knew, was that you really have to pre-cook meat on a conventional grill before finishing it over the barbie's flame, unless you want to give everyone diphtheria. Which has to raise the question, really, what the hell is the point of having one at all? Revelation number three, and the final straw for me, is you have to clean about a ton of grease off them after each use – and sharpish too, or you'll have a garage full of rats.
I dunno, maybe I just have no sense of fun. What I do have though is one nearly new three-burner gas barbeque. It'll be in the Articles For Sale next week, if you're interested.