Flat-pack

I was going to treat you to a blog about the trauma of flat-pack purgatory that is Ikea. I’ll have a go, but I might burst into tears and have to give up half way through…

I took my luvvly Mum and my beloved Purple Fred to Ikea. PF bought us all lunch, and then we bought a wardrobe and a sofa. We hired a van, delivered our new purchases to PF’s and my Mum respectively, and took the van back.

Hmmm…can’t help thinking I’ve missed some of the essential drama, but if I tell you that that lot took seven hours – and the bit with the van only accounts for one of them – you might get the idea. Among the frustrations were:

  • The stupid pay-to-park machine being unable to give change, AND refusing to accept a 20p overpayment (can you see the problem there?)
  • The “helpful” layout of the store, which means that the only route from level one of the car park to level one of the store, is via level four.
  • Helpful Ikea man (who was helping PF with the very heavy trolley while I sorted out van hire) wandering off to chat to his mate, causing PF to run the trolley over her foot.
  • The crap layout of the warehouse where you collect the flat packs for your selections

.

Believe me, I could go on – there’s a week’s worth of ranting just in the car park. But anyway, we completed our mission and then had a really nice evening out with Rob and Sarah at a Thai restaurant, before heading back to PF’s where Rob very kindly helped me carry the two heaviest boxes upstairs :-) .

And on Sunday we demolished the old wardrobe (on purpose!), PF went to rehearsal and then we went geocaching. And tonight – possibly at the very moment you’re reading this – I’m building a self-assembly sofa.

UPDATE:

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