Monday November 7, 2005
We were thinking of casting caution to the wind and venturing over to IKEA, just the other side of Nottingham, tomorrow.
It’s my office chair, you see. Been on its last legs for a long time and has now decided to take on a tilt that defies our joint efforts to fix. And there’s a chair at IKEA I’ve been lusting after for ages. Graham got all insistent that we do the job quickly.
“You’ll do yourself an injury if you go on sitting on that wreck any longer,” he said.
“Yeah. I know. I’ve been hoping it’d see me out until after we move house but it is getting to be a problem.”
“Right. We’ll go tomorrow.”
“Just so long as we feel up to it, and the weather isn’t too bad.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
So I settled into my day, catching up on laundry and doing a bit of website maintenance. In the early evening I pitched in to throw a cheat’s sausage casserole together—using a bottled sauce instead of doing the job properly. I was just at the point of putting a huge mound of trimmed broccoli on to steam when Graham delivered the bad news. Or good news, depending on your point of view.
“They don’t have any in stock,” he announced.
“Who don’t have what in stock?”
“IKEA. Just checked, and the in-stock list for Nottingham shows they don’t have any of those office chairs at the moment.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “That’s the way of IKEA, I suppose. Not to worry. It’s a long trip and we’ll be better set to do it next week.”
“You didn’t really want to go anyway, did you?”
“Alright, I confess. I did think it was a bit ambitious, schlepping all the way over to Nottingham when we’re both fresh from the sick room.”
“Just be careful on that chair in the meantime.”
“I shall. You ready for dinner?”
“Think so. What’s in that casserole, then?”