Restaurants | 19 February 2005

I go abroad for a week and what do I find when I get home? That Ikea has been stormed by large chunks of Edmonton! I was absolutely livid, not least because I’m one of the people who, some time ago now, not only campaigned against the storming of Ikea, but also went on the march and attended several candlelit vigils which were really, really boring and chilly, but such was the strength of my belief. I simply do not agree with storming Ikea, even though I totally accept it has its problems. The nightmare queues. The basement bit where you are seduced into spending £789 on silly candles — as if you would ever consider going on another boring and chilly vigil again. The sheer choice, and all those veneers. Oh — so many veneers and so little time. I suspect even the meatballs are veneered. Nope, I know it, I’ve eaten them. And as for the items of furniture, I can see they are weapons of mass frustration, what with all that torturous self-assembly business. But still, storming is simply not the answer. Instead, I would suggest a peaceful revolution, a non-violent way of getting your own back, which involves stealing as many of those little tape-measures and stubby pencils as you can. I’ve redecorated our entire hall in them as it is, plus have built myself a lovely three-piece suite. I call it Törstenfriedegg. It is nice.

So, I return home after a week and, aside from the Great Flat Pack Riots, what else do I find? I find that the boys have managed perfectly well without me, that’s what. This is just as upsetting as the news about Ikea. I’m not even sure my son missed me. I sense this is so when I ask him, ‘Did you miss me?’ and he says, ‘No, not really,’ and then goes off to do something crickety called ‘winter nets’, whatever they are.