The People's Republic of IKEA

To IKEA, where the weary shoppers were descending in droves to buy random things; trivets, duvets, green and red sticky tape, wine glasses and weird table runner things which never get used again.
Yes, t'was the Sunday before Christmas and all over the country people were panicking about entertaining on an epic scale for one day only.
Social media-shy husband and I left the kids at a tennis party for a few hours (thank you lovely Shaun, tennis coach extraordinaire) and headed to this global temple of simple-yet-functional Scandinavian design.
Now back home contemplating a cupboard full of out-of-date sauces and spices which fall on your head every time you open the door and thinking: 'Can I face it?'
Don't want to brain my mother-in-law on Christmas Day as she helps with the dinner.
Didn't Blip yesterday. Too busy. Went to a party at night and made a dreadful faux pas with a lovely lady artist whom I muddled up with another lovely lady artist.
Husband is still chuckling about what will henceforth be known as The Jimmy Johnstone Story.
I am still mortified. If she reads this (unlikely...) I can't apologise enough.
I hadn't even been drinking. It was an adult party full of adults talking and the kids were getting extremely bored; pulling my arm and demanding, 'Can we GO NOW?'
That's my excuse, anyway.