Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Tired Ikea house

impossible songs

These are in our kitchen and are growing like Triffids and are every new day lying at more oddly acute angles than ever. What are you supposed to do with such errant bulbs at this time of year?

impossible songs


A visit to the great blue and yellow cavern, home of the cheap, the nasty, the tasteful , the bizarre and the bargain was today’s centerpiece. The highlight of any IKEA outing is the strange experience of eating a large hot dog, lined with their special non-flavoured mustard and washed down with the bleached brown coffee in some kind of recycled cup. The kids always enjoy coming here and love all the shortcuts through the store, many of which they seem to have memorized. The main purpose of the visit was to buy tot-sized furniture for the grandchildren, which after wandering aimlessly around the warehouse for half an hour I eventually managed to do. Oh and we bought a cat shaped cushion for the cat, (would you buy a people shaped cushion for a person?) but why the fizz do they charge you 70p to use a credit card?


I also bought two tyres today; sadly this meant bidding a fond farewell to my faithful nearside rear tyre. This long suffering tyre has had a slow puncture since around late 2004 due to a small unwanted nail embedding itself in it at some unknown point in the past. We’ve twice been to France with this as well as racking up 20000 miles in the UK on that poor, unwell, imperfect rubber circle. I hope it burns for a long time in some contractor’s furnace or is recycled as some useful rubber implement (?).


Way out on the A71 there is a place called Currie, why it bears that name I’ve no idea as it is neither warm, spicy or meaty. Anyway I looked at house there today to see if it might suit us. Apart from being near the main road and somewhat hazardous for cats and children and being adjacent to some industrial sheds and mysterious processes, but it was clean looking, spacious and handy for the city and the by-pass and even IKEA. If ever we ran out of pickled herring, meatballs, couches or fancied a hot dog there would be no problem. Oh Brother where art thou?

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