Thursday February 7, 2008
The three picture frames we bought at IKEA to take a set of flower prints, while stunning to look at, have a functional design flaw. The hanging thing doesn’t work.
First I knew of it was a loud howl of frustration from the bedroom. Dolly came shooting up the stairs to sit with me in the study out of the way. Another, even louder howl, followed by a bang as Graham switched into big hammer mode. Dolly and I exchanged long looks, full of meaning and experience, and decided to stay where we were, quiet and out of harm’s way.
Then the air turned blue with some of the best and most forceful creative cursing I’ve heard in a good long while. And lots more bangs. Some errant designer in the depths of IKEA must have got at least a buzz in the ear just about then. If he’d been standing next to Graham at that moment it’d have been rather more than just a buzz.
After a while I ventured down and poked my head around the door. Cautiously.
“Something wrong, dear?”
Well, I can’t resist it sometimes, really I can’t. And I’ve learned some good new words over the years by being innocently infuriating. It’s something I do well.
When he’d calmed down, and been plied with tea, we had a conference over the picture frames. There was no way of deducing the designer’s intent for the little poky hole in the top that was completely and utterly useless for the weight of the frames. They’re heavy.
“I think your best bet is to forget the fitting, get standard wire and fixings, and do the job yourself the old fashioned way. At least you know that’ll work.”
“Right. You going off to Sainsbury’s now?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. You can drop me off at Focus on the way.”
It was a lovely, mild, sunny day, blue sky, fluffy white clouds. I knew that it’d do him good to get out of the house for a bit so I did an accelerated get-ready operation, and was fit to boogie in ten minutes.
“Shall I come back here to pick you up when I’ve done?” I said when we got to Focus.
“Nah. It’s a nice day. I’ll walk over to join you.”
When, about half an hour later, he came up to the car window, he was all sunny beamsmiles again.
The emergency was over.
Back home, clutching little plastic bags with bits of wire, brass and steel, he took himself back to the job. A wonderful, serene calm filled the house, completely dispelling the memory of DIY tantrums. Dolly gave a big sigh, and we settled down to wait. Lunch was to be soup and rolls, and there was no way he’d stop until the whole job was finished.
“Come and have a look,” he called, rousing me from my looking out of the study window at the sky reverie.
“Oh, well done, chooky-boots. That looks really good. It was worth the trouble.”
“Thanks. Lesson learned.”
Worth the trouble
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