So the Beloved is on a roll now... 'Let's go to Ikea,' he says. Now he's been and bought a sofa there's no stopping him.
So there we are this afternoon, rolling into Ashton train station with the big blue and yellow box that is Ikea looming on our right like a huge temple to the Swedish chipboard furniture gods.
We battle against the winds down the dual carriageway, walk around the huge blue box until we find the entrance and so begin our epic journey along the trail of mock mini rooms.
About the time we've found our way to bedrooms I'm beginning to lose the will to go on. But of course I can't go back. You can never go back in Ikea. It's like the Holy Grail but with no get out clauses.
'Sorry Arthur, the old horse got a bit tierd just past the day beds so we left Lancelot to soldier onto the checkout.'
Oh, no. it's do or die in Ikea. Arrows on the floor point the way and so I must pass through kitchens, offices, children's bedrooms, something called the market hall and through lighting and some plants into this vast cavern of flatpacked stuff, stacked high as an elephant's eye - if not higher.
I'm getting seriously grizzly now. Firstly because I haven't seen daylight for what feels like three days, secondly because the sea of people galloping towards the tills suggests there's queuing ahead and thirdly because it's way past my breakfast and lunchtime now and I'm not good news if my blood-sugar levels get too low.
You know that advert where the mother out-tantrums the child, throwing herself on the floor? I'm not quite that bad but I have been known to punctuate a point by stamping my foot.
Thankfully full-blown hysterics was avoided; a woman came and opened another till and we were out in 15 minutes and a bag of crisps was swiftly purchased for my inner brat.
Perhaps internet shopping next time. Snacks are only a staircase away.
2008-01-02 @ 23:02