I hate Ikea

I hate the size of the place, the inescapability of it. The way you have to jump through all the hoops and touch every base before you are allowed out. The way the price is never immediately available, the way they can't just take an order for something that is out of stock. The way the displays have four colours but the boxes on the floor only have two. The tempting basket of soft toys at every corner that only result in screaming children having a fifth teddy pulled from their hands by an impatient Dad.

I go about once a year with a list that has been carefully researched on the internet in advance. I make sure I have my family card and plenty of bags and that I know the bus times. And I still come out with raised blood pressure, damaged ear drums and a heap of brightly coloured crap I could well have lived without.

And a lighter wallet.