Big may be beautiful when it comes to cake portions, bouquets of flowers and bottles of perfume but there are certain times when dinky is definitely better. Such is the case with my gleaming new toy, the new Sony BRAVIA B-Series LCD TV.

It’s razor thin, a very sexy mocha-colour and so neat in size that I can install it at the end of my bed to provide the perfect backdrop to my Saturday morning. Following a hectic week of scooting around London for work, drinks, dates and more work, Saturday and Sunday is all about staying close to home. And in particular indulging in my guilty pleasure, weekend television.

I adore spending a couple of hours with the boys of BBC 1’s Saturday Kitchen – teaching me how to whip up a quick frittata in their honey northern tones as I happily tear apart buttery rich croissants, washed down with black-as-midnight Monmouth coffee.

Midday and my new bedspread is scattered in a landscape of crumbs like a Tracy Emin installation as I reluctantly tip myself out of bed.

Emerging from my flat in Borough into the golden mid-Spring sunshine, I clack down to the South Bank, navigating the Clink Street cobbles and the tides of London humanity: smiling couples holding hands and dishy boys out for a jog. I’m racing riverside to the Tate Modern, to meet my friend Caitlin for lunch.

We chat about her dating disasters and my new BRAVIA addition, with Caitlin admitting she’s jealous. Her lumpy analogue, she tells me, eyebrows raised ruefully, ruins her sitcom-watching pleasures by colouring the cast of Friends’ faces a disarming shade of bleeding blood-orange, “like they’re the lost love children of Dale Winton and Victoria Beckham – frightening”.

Poor girl. My appraisal of the BRAVIA’s good looks and crisp, tangerine-free definition whets Caitlin’s appetite for a languid late afternoon watching chick flicks, so we sashay back to my flat, stopping off at Borough’s Brindisa delicatessen en route, where we treat ourselves to a crispy bag of churros, those delicious finger-thin Spanish donuts.

Thanks to BRAVIA being the weight of an average designer bag, complete with a handy handle for easy portability, a couple of hours later we’re finishing off the donuts in my living room as Richard Gere serenades a quivering-lipped Julia Roberts on a crystal clear screen.

As the credits roll, we crack open a bottle of gooseberry-scented New Zealand sauvignon blanc for a cheeky glass as we dress for the night ahead. As ITV’s Britain’s Got Talent bubbles away in the background – a booming young baritone flexing his tonsils on an old soul classic which we can hear perfectly thanks to the BRAVIA's excellent sound quality – I riffle through my wardrobe pulling out a £10 vintage dress to pair with my £200 shoes.

We do a quick turn for Simon Cowell before racing out the door and into a sharpener at The Roxy, my powercut-dark local bar, with its tattered blood-red velvet banquettes and industrial-strength mojitos. We sip a couple of these excellent cocktails before heading to dinner.

Merry on chilled white wine, we tumble out onto the buzzing Saturday-night Bermondsey Street and into the cavernous depths of Shunt – the club that occupies the rediscovered bowels of London Bridge train station’s Victorian arches. But after a few hours of socialising, I jealously look forward to moving the TV back to my room for a Sunday morning happily tucked up with the Hollyoaks omnibus on Channel 4.

However, the next day I can’t stay in the comfort of my bed for too long as friends are popping over for Sunday brunch. So I pick up the BRAVIA, station it in the kitchen and watch the rest of the shenanigans in a fictious Chester as I prepare a feast of salmon, scrambled eggs and homemade muffins. See, those hours with Saturday Kitchen have not been wasted.

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