I think there may be something wrong with me. I have ... needs. I mean I like all the usual stuff that a bloke should. Football. Wold Top. Star Wars. Eighties heavy rock. Kelly Brook.
But sometimes – sometimes – I like to look at soft furnishings. You know, like girls do. I can't help it, I just love a nicely upholstered Chesterfield sofa.
I know it's meant to be the female of the species who can't help themselves from covering any bare space with unnecessary mountains of cushions, throwing throws over perfectly adequate chairs and buying ornaments, trinkets, tea lights, puffs and overly elaborate picture frames.
But I increasingly find myself drawn to furniture warehouses, home appliance shops and upholstery boutiques.
I'm worried that I may be turning into a low-rent Laurence Llewelyn- Bowen. I'll be opening up a naff Christmas adventure land next, full of Cockney elves smoking roll-ups and skinny Santas.
All of which is my way of saying: What the hell is going on with the Lord Line building?
Stay with me. It's not that much of a leap.
To my mind, the Lord Line is an ideal place to create a funky mill-type homes and accessories complex.
Back in my native Wessie-land, the old industrial cotton mills and warehouses are crammed full of them.
My favourite is called Red Brick Mill, in Batley, which has among its three floors of funky furniture, art galleries and cool cafés, some really nice household stuff, which I'll never be able to afford.
Best of all, it's only a stone's throw from Ikea, at junction 27, so once there you can spend the whole day in homeware heaven.
There are others. Salts Mill in Saltaire, once the heart of a Victorian model village and woollen mill, is now home to more cool outlets as well as a fair chunk of David Hockney's original artwork.
The Lord Line Building could do all that. Easily. Instead of being allowed to fester and face a slow attrition at the hands of vandals and graffiti taggers it could be transformed into a gleaming, commercially viable destination that would not only serve as an attractive gateway into Hull but add to the city centre's relatively meagre offering of "quirky" non-chain stores.
It already has the character outside, hasn't anyone got the vision and cash to convert the interior, too?
The fact that it's been allowed to fall into the state of disrepair it's obviously in is a disgrace.
As is the fact the council is having to stump up the cash to make urgent structural repair works.
Can it not be compulsorily purchased and given the dignity a historic local landmark like this deserves.
Of course, the Lord Line building isn't alone. There are plenty of examples of city centre buildings being left to rot; the old Edwin Davis department store in Bond Street, the Rank Hovis building and the former New York Hotel in Anlaby Road, are the obvious contenders.
What are the developers doing, shuffling their feet and waiting for "something to turn up" like a 21st-century Mr Micawber?
The council intends to send the eventual bill for work on the Lord Line to North Ferriby developer Manor Property Group, which owns it.
It's a shame it's come to this. I'm sure the Lord Line and it's fellow derelict edifices could have worthwhile and productive futures given a bit of thought and investment.
Even if it wasn't to be used as a soft furnishing wonderland, just so I didn't have to trail down the M62 every time I wanted to look at a Barcelona chair, I'm sure there are dozens of other uses it could be put to.
Anything would be better than its current predicament.
With 2017 and the eyes of the world soon turning to Hull, something need to be done now.
Otherwise, in three years' time, Hull will still be festooned with these once fine buildings which, in their current state, are neither use nor ornament.
