Tom surprised me with this post today!
Me Myself and IKEA
‘With the passing of Ikea founder Ingvar Kamprad this week I have been thinking about my own relationship with the big blue furniture store and how it differs from most.
I mentioned recently in an instagram post that the trick to enjoying Ikea is to live close enough to go there with out ‘needing’ to buy anything. Living so close to Ikea has meant it has very much been part of mine and Fritha’s life for the past few (quite a few actually) years since we bought our first house together. Buying our first pieces of furniture (mostly from the bargain corner) and dragging them home on a trolley as we didn’t have a car. Eating our meals there when me and Rog ripped out and installed a new kitchen when Fritha was 8 months pregnant. Buying a cot for Wilf, and then him never sleeping in it. Playing games and treasure hunts with Wilf and now Mabli on days when it’s just too rainy for the park. Lying about Wilfs age so that he could go in to Smalland with his cousin at two and a half and him loving it.
I do get why all the people dragging children around through the dense crowds of a rainy bank holiday hate it. But for me, despite a great dislike of crowds, knowing the layout in my head and all the little shortcuts, Ikea is my safe place. Where I go when I need space in my head to think. The hubbub, white noise to my worries. The reassuring auto pilot of following the arrows.
When we suffered a miscarriage before Wilf existed I did my best to comfort a distraught Fritha. I’m not sure why, but I was determined not to let her see me cry. Not out of some sort of macho ideal, but I thought that I needed to be strong for her and show that life could carry on. So I went to Ikea on my own, got my free coffee, then sat in the cafe and cried more than I had ever cried before. To the people eating their dog balls* whilst picking up a billy bookcase this must have seemed very strange. But this was my safe place.
So to Ingvar Kamprad I say, thank you for giving us affordable Scandinavian design and for all the great charity work done by the Ikea Foundation.’
*Back when I was a meat eater, my sister repeatedly said dog balls to me in the queue, so that when I got to the front I asked for dog balls instead of meat balls.
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