Fabmabuk - positivity, life, laughter and much more

 

 

Escape from Ikea

 

Hello my dears, I'm back for another ruminate and much to my surprise I find that you seem like my musings.   I still don't quite get it, maybe I never will, but l but I do like chatting to you all from the comfort of my keyboard.  

 

The burning questions are, how much of me do you want?   Weekly?   Twice a week? or Mondays, Wednesdays and Friday?   As I am such a blog novice I would value your opinions about my opinions.   I don't want you all to suffer bouts of narcolepsy mid blog, I certainly don't want you to be bored bunless and worse still, I don't want you to ignore me either.  Although I think its likely that my keyboard will have to be prized out of my cold dead paws, because I seem to have found an outlet for my rather idiosyncratic voice.  

 

So my darlings, tell me how often and how long works for you, and, like a sensitive lover, I will try to keep you satisfied....you won't notice the absence of a penis, in fact it may be better, because those critters never seemed to learn that tiny a tadger coupled with good technique will ring my bells any day.    

 

I aim to please, unlike the majority of my critters ever did anyway!   

 

Times were very different back then, in my day we were just an alternative to masturbation and if half of those boys could have shagged their mommies they have stayed at home because mommy made better gravy and loved them unconditionally.

 

So, here I go, todays topic will be visiting Ikea.   It has always been a matter of psyching myself up for a fortnight, working out when the kids are not off school and sneaking in under cover of daylight.   I dread the crowds and miles of endless routes with unfathomable dead ends as I find myself going against the flow....shock horror!

 

I first came across Ikea in my old Cargo Margo days, there was one just around the corner from an hotel I used to stay in when we went to Singapore.   I loved it and did a sort of supermarket sweep of the place dragging all manner of goodies home.  The simplicity of their wares impressed me and when I headed over to Australia to see my family in in Perth I found one there too so more bits and bobs came home.   On that trip we had been delivering race horses to Australia and when I got off I took a coach trip across the desert to Perth and spent a couple of weeks before flying back to base. 

 

Imagine my delight when one of the largest Ikea stores opened on my doorstep.   No more dragging my sorry ass home laden with all things Swedish.   No more being novel either, but I can hack that, nothing is new for long....

 

Now I venture into Ikea with caution, it is HUGE and so confusing.   They have sneaky little doors that let you avoid parts of the store, but then you might miss something and you know how women loathe to miss anything!    I see them mesmerised by all things Ikea doing what I do, mentally shifting my furniture around so I can squeeze something rather fetching in, but alas my squeezing in days are done, I have too much of everything and it has all been moved closer so I can't even move my flat lays sideways.   Did you get that? I've actually put the notion of a flat lay in a sentence - crikey!   I am a speedy learner, I had no idea what one of them was a month ago.   Instagramming and blogging are my new best hobbies, I'm constantly checking my phone and am amazed at how many of you read me....

 

I circumnavigate Ikea with great caution, as a pescetarian I am not keen on meat balls, though I have eaten the fish and it wasn't bad.   I do have a preferred route, up the escalator, turn right, avoiding children's stuff and room settings.   I head onto the market hall following the illuminated arrows avoiding random 'stoppers and grazers', you know the sort, they're all over the shopping world these days, people who need to be fitted with brake lights and indicators because when the do see something shiny they stop.   I bounce off them and they give me a look - the 'piss off you old fart' look that makes me snarl and prepare to charge.

 

Women in places like Ikea are like an unruly herd of wildebeest, they wander, pick up and examine every angle of things, discuss them and often abandon them wherever they stand. Its no wonder that Ikea staff have to screw so many display items down, otherwise there would be more chaos than there already is and I think they probably have a 'put it backer. returning discarded items from whence they came.   Give a gal a trolley and she's lethal, she will see something and just walk away from her chariot and give me 'the look' because I moved it to get by.   Bitch looks then go back and forth till one of us blinks and moves on.

 

Now those poor men that couldn't get away from the Ikea run walk like sad post-war casualties, their eyes are glazed because they know that they will have to build whatever she's bought and he's paid for, and those frigging instructions are in Swahili!    When my Ikea first opened there was a little cartoon room for the kids and it always amused me how many men were happily hiding in the dark there, I'm not sure if there is one now but I do wish parents could leave their kids somewhere, get a ticket and do their do.   I for one, as a childless old biddy, get heartily sick of squealing offspring running amok;  you may love you babies and short people but I am not happy about being walked on or having my eardrums shattered by wailing sprogs, who don't want to be there anyway - and who could blame the poor little blighters.

 

So, for me Ikea is akin to Bedlam, I make occasional and necessary trips for picture frames etc., and   once my mission is complete I make a break for the fence as soon as possible.   I avert my gaze from all that lovely white stuff that appeals to me so much, although I do love to have a look around the damaged but adorable section in case there is a treasure with my name on it.  Today I self-served, paid up and apparently won a doughnut - hmmm!  I didn't claim it, I'd have to go back in and I'm going to need a sedative already.   On the car park, I load up and go out the in, it is a rule of mine to ignore an arrow on the tarmac at least once a day if possible, it is about defiance and being a bloody minded bitch I guess.

 

Today I left and something really interesting happened, as I was coming out I saw two women coming in and recognised one as the sister of someone that I haven't seen for about 40 years, the other woman was her.   Kiss, Kiss as usual - I am a kisser - Hello, how are you's? were exchanged then one said - was that you on the back of a magazine recently?

Oh yes! said I, t'was me! I can't tell you how nice it was to still be recognisable after all these years.   Fortunately I had my slap on and looked reasonable .... and as we parted I thought to myself 'thank you REW' I'm still here! - and if it hadn't been for Tereza of cityscapebliss this blogging thing would never have happened.

 

Time to go now, till the next time,

 

Me