Hang On Lads, I’ve Got An Ikea…

After our escape room shenanigans yesterday, we happened to be passing by Birstall on the way back. And we were peckish. So we ended up in TGI’s to pass judgement on their various menu tweaks which appear to have their basis in “health” but then mean that you’re paying the same price, or more, for less food.

They also, fun fact, don’t off the bottomless drinks offer on regular coke. Because we all remember that cautionary tale of the person who went into to TGI’s, ordered a normal coke and had so many refills that he had to be rolled out of the dining area and juiced.

Anyway, being at Birstall also put us within the gravitational pull of Ikea.

Buggeration.

Although, an hour before Ikea shuts on a Saturday is the ideal time to go. Because it’s quiet. Very quiet. And, it turns out, it’s where the cool kids go to hang out and sit in the little mock sitting rooms and vape.

We went to Ikea for blackout curtains. Because it’s a small price to pay to not have Carole awake at 4am pontificating about the light that’s coming through the window. We have to find something to deal with the light that comes through the bathroom window, bounces around the bedroom and directly into her brain, but baby steps.

Obviously because it’s Ikea we didn’t just buy some curtains.

We left with a pillow, a plug that charges three USB devices, the curtains, some chocolate, and some crispbreads. No meatballs, though. Even though it was tempting.

Oh and a desire to spend a small fortune on new bookcases. Which we’ll have to have delivered because – unlike the people we passed on the way in – we’re aware how big the car is and it’s not even worth the effort of trying to get the boxes into the car.

We walked past a couple who had bought very large things. These things did not fit in the car. As we walked past, the male of the couple was in the passenger seat bent over double, trying to position the boxes in some way, while his other half stood with the passenger door open, next to a discarded head rest.

Carole laughed out loud. Properly loud. Which is obviously the thing to do in these situations. At that exact point, I wished I didn’t know her. But at that exact same point, the other half turned towards Carole’s laugh and mouthed the words “fucking hell…” at us with a look on her face which implied that she didn’t want to know her other half right then and would be berating him all the way home. Assuming there was room for her in the car.

She was, at best, in the back seat somewhere. At worst, walking.

They were gone when we came out of the store.

I really want to know how their story ended.