· life ·

Since our plans had to be radically restructured, we decided that we would make an en route visit to Ikea. We weren't intending to buy anything^1^; it was more of a reconnaissance mission to check out the lie of the land and sit on some sofas. Our current flat is fully furnished, and while we have a few pieces of furniture that we have somehow managed to shoe-horn in amongst the truly horrible pieces that came with the flat, we'll need some more after we move if we're going to avoid sitting and sleeping on the floor.

You'll have to bear with me here, as I'm sure that everyone reading is a seasoned Ikea professional — "been there, done that, bought a million tea lights for £1.50". But I've only been once, several years ago, and Mr. Bsag was an Ikea virgin. We must have looked like slack-jawed yokels wandering around the shelves, uttering awed statements about the cheapness and beauty of everything on display; "Look! That rug is only £7.50! Here's a little bamboo plant for two quid!". The fact that we have no need of any more rugs — or indeed any bamboo at all — is neither here nor there. It really is a bewildering place.

If you have been to Ikea before, I'm sure you'll be impressed that we did manage to come away without making a single purchase. In fact, we were up by two little Ikea pencils, which we forgot to replace in the holder. I don't feel too guilty, though. By the time we've bought some furniture for the new place I'm sure that we will have paid for our pencils many times over.

^1^ I imagine this is a common plaintive cry when people find themselves back at their car in a dazed state, and are surprised to find bags full of CD shelves and place mats in their hands.