"These are the days of miracle and wonder…"
Well, kind of.
Nevertheless, at the risk of boring you all rigid again with another short tale from the mundane side, what now follows is an account of our latest mid-week adventure - one which is not really much of an "adventure" at all - which involved us heading out into the evening and the unknown until long past our usual bedtime.
Still, the online "stock check" had unreliably informed us that what we were seeking was "In Stock" in reasonable quantities and, given that similar stock had disappeared from off the warehouse shelves in the mere blink of an eye on previous occasions, we decided that we might as well chance it, setting off into the night without even having double-checked the opening times of the Swedish Palace of Flat-packed Dreams and wondering perhaps whether we would still be unlucky enough to arrive just as someone had picked up all twenty of the units to put in their shop, or the shutters slammed down for the day.
There was a troubling delay as a doctor's appointment went on longer than had been allowed for because they were "running late" but Susan Calman talking about "Appearance" on Radio Four provided a suitable distraction to the person waiting in the car park and was, in fact, so very impressive, that it was listened to all over again on iPlayer when we finally got home.
So, after being bundled unceremoniously into our car, off we went, hurtling along my usual route towards work for only the second time that day, and hoping against hope that the journey would be completed in the time between our 7:04pm departure and our perceived understanding of their presumed closing time at 8:00pm.
Happily, and despite the fact that it had been an awkward sonofabitch of a day, the travel gods were on our side for once and we pulled into the car park at about 7:45pm, joyfully noticing, on a bloody great big sign that we hadn't been able to read as we drove in, that the weekday closing time was actually 9:00pm and we had absolutely ages of time to spare.
Another reason that we'd picked this particular slot in which to attempt our purchase was that we were at least vaguely aware that the local battlers "Yoo-nee-Ted" were playing a football game that evening and we imagined that, by blatting over there whilst was occurring, this might mean that the shop would be just a tad quieter than usual, unless, of course, everyone else had had the very same thought.
Well, it turned out that everyone hadn't had the same thought and were probably cracking open tins of lager and shouting at their various tellies even as we approached the street level entrance so as to avoid the lengthy stroll around the labyrinthine showrooms.
Happily, we were able to find the item on their computers and scribble down the reference number and followed the instruction to "Contact Staff" and it only took him four goes, and an assist from another - female - member of staff to put our order through.
At this point we were actually beginning to believe that this purchase might actually finally be about to happen, because, after having called in on at least four occasions to be told that the shelves we wanted for the bathroom - you know, those ones which were 'just right', 'exactly what we were looking for', 'totally perfect for what we need', etc. - were not in stock and that they were not expected for quite some time, and having begun to think that we might have to try and come up with another solution instead, after six months or more of trying to get that particular set of shelves from IKEA, we appeared to have finally got hold of some.
And so, indeed, it came to pass. We sat down in the comfortable armchairs of the "collection area" and watched as our particular order number jumped from the left hand column into the middle one, and then to the right, and then the mysterious doors of the warehouse opened wide and our brown cardboard parcel appeared, was signed for and we carried it towards the car which it was a tad too long a package to comfortably fit in, but we made it work and happily headed homewards with some "BritPop" playing on Radio 2 and the prospect of another weekend of wrestling with allen keys ahead of us.
"Huzzah!"
Well, kind of.
Nevertheless, at the risk of boring you all rigid again with another short tale from the mundane side, what now follows is an account of our latest mid-week adventure - one which is not really much of an "adventure" at all - which involved us heading out into the evening and the unknown until long past our usual bedtime.
Still, the online "stock check" had unreliably informed us that what we were seeking was "In Stock" in reasonable quantities and, given that similar stock had disappeared from off the warehouse shelves in the mere blink of an eye on previous occasions, we decided that we might as well chance it, setting off into the night without even having double-checked the opening times of the Swedish Palace of Flat-packed Dreams and wondering perhaps whether we would still be unlucky enough to arrive just as someone had picked up all twenty of the units to put in their shop, or the shutters slammed down for the day.
There was a troubling delay as a doctor's appointment went on longer than had been allowed for because they were "running late" but Susan Calman talking about "Appearance" on Radio Four provided a suitable distraction to the person waiting in the car park and was, in fact, so very impressive, that it was listened to all over again on iPlayer when we finally got home.
So, after being bundled unceremoniously into our car, off we went, hurtling along my usual route towards work for only the second time that day, and hoping against hope that the journey would be completed in the time between our 7:04pm departure and our perceived understanding of their presumed closing time at 8:00pm.
Happily, and despite the fact that it had been an awkward sonofabitch of a day, the travel gods were on our side for once and we pulled into the car park at about 7:45pm, joyfully noticing, on a bloody great big sign that we hadn't been able to read as we drove in, that the weekday closing time was actually 9:00pm and we had absolutely ages of time to spare.
Another reason that we'd picked this particular slot in which to attempt our purchase was that we were at least vaguely aware that the local battlers "Yoo-nee-Ted" were playing a football game that evening and we imagined that, by blatting over there whilst was occurring, this might mean that the shop would be just a tad quieter than usual, unless, of course, everyone else had had the very same thought.
Well, it turned out that everyone hadn't had the same thought and were probably cracking open tins of lager and shouting at their various tellies even as we approached the street level entrance so as to avoid the lengthy stroll around the labyrinthine showrooms.
Happily, we were able to find the item on their computers and scribble down the reference number and followed the instruction to "Contact Staff" and it only took him four goes, and an assist from another - female - member of staff to put our order through.
At this point we were actually beginning to believe that this purchase might actually finally be about to happen, because, after having called in on at least four occasions to be told that the shelves we wanted for the bathroom - you know, those ones which were 'just right', 'exactly what we were looking for', 'totally perfect for what we need', etc. - were not in stock and that they were not expected for quite some time, and having begun to think that we might have to try and come up with another solution instead, after six months or more of trying to get that particular set of shelves from IKEA, we appeared to have finally got hold of some.
And so, indeed, it came to pass. We sat down in the comfortable armchairs of the "collection area" and watched as our particular order number jumped from the left hand column into the middle one, and then to the right, and then the mysterious doors of the warehouse opened wide and our brown cardboard parcel appeared, was signed for and we carried it towards the car which it was a tad too long a package to comfortably fit in, but we made it work and happily headed homewards with some "BritPop" playing on Radio 2 and the prospect of another weekend of wrestling with allen keys ahead of us.
"Huzzah!"
So jealous! Our nearest Ikky aah is at Bristol - too far away to make it worth our while, and they don't deliver to our neck of the woods, either. I loved going there when we lived in Warrington. I think those smooth Swedish lines are suitable to grace just about any style of house. Maybe they'll decide to cross the Tamar one day, who knows!!
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