My big day goes bung!

Yup. Total disaster.

I should have known when I developed a cold late yesterday and woke up (early, thanks to my alarm clock sister-in-law ☺ ) with a nose like Angel Falls.

But that didn’t deter me. No way. I was on for an adventure of the Ikea sort.

I never shop at Ikea. I avoid it like the plague in Melbourne – see the post about people in shopping malls.

Like taking sides in a divorce or whacking all your Christmas shopping on VISA Card, it seemed like a really good idea at the time. It’s cheap, pretty stylish some of it and, apart from the dicey job of putting it all together, it’s theoretically the perfect way for an expat to furnish a house.

I’ve always been a tad apprehensive about Ikea for two reasons. Firstly, I have my doubts about the sanity of the guy who owns it because, despite having more money than god he still flies economy and secondly, I once had a very bad experience with a bookcase that took seven hours to erect.

Undeterred today, I set off by train/s to Gentofte and bus to HELL...sorry, Ikea.

Armed with a list, I made my way around the very busy people magnet writing down styles and sizes and then wondered what I was meant to do.

What you’re actually meant to do is grab a form on the way in, write everything on that, along with the row and spot number where you drag the larger stuff from the warehouse on the way out. This meant another complete tour of every section so I could complete the form properly.

Anything big, you have to go to the section counter and get a printed docket which includes the row and place of that item.

Two-and-a-half hours later, there I was with 400 forms for sofas, beds, desks, coffee tables.

Was I doing the right thing?

“Yes,” said the girl at one of the area counters. “Now you have two choices. You can either get the Green delivery to take everything home for you once you pick it up here or you can take the expensive delivery, so that the items come from Sweden in 7-10 days.”

“I have to move out next weekend and I’ll at least need the bed. I think I’ll take the green delivery then.”

“Okay,” she said happily. “So you take these forms, get your items from the warehouse area, check out then go to Level (something) where the green delivery is located.”

“Easy.” I said. “But will I be able to manage all of this on my own?”

“Oh yes, you can take two trolleys.”

“And also, where do I get things like doonas, pillows, lamps, Manchester?”

“That’s downstairs.”

“Fantastic. Thanks.”

As I leisurely strolled around the home-wares section, choosing shower curtains, bedding etc, I checked my watch. 1600hr. Hmm. I better get a wriggle on.

Off to the warehouse I go. One shopping trolley full and one, quickly filling, ‘big thing’ trolley.

Parts for the bed (many). Check.
Mattress and top mattress. Check.
Manchester. Check.
Kitchen crap. Check.
Lighting. Check.

Now, that rather nice three seater sofa.

At Row 2, which is nowhere near Rows 3 & 4 I should add, I find said sofa. I also find a father and daughter trying to manhandle a two-seater next to mine, which I help them with. They try to help with mine but IT’S JUST TOO BIG. I leave trolley number two (as the sofa has collapsed on it so it won’t move) and head to the 'help' counter.

“Ah… Can I get some help with loading a sofa onto a trolley?”

Smarmy guy: “Yes, if it is heavy but we can’t take it around for your. It’s self-serve. You have to do that yourself.”

“Oh really? Well, that’s just great… You know what, you half smart Danish dickhead with an ‘I love myself’ flagpole shoved so far up your bum you can’t even walk properly? I hope you get crabs. Big ones. I hope you’re children are born with 11 fingers each, in total, and I also hope you’re granny slips on some of the slime that oozes from your arse when you walk and breaks her hip three days before Christmas!!”

- Actually no. I said nothing.

I smiled, so very politely, and walked straight out of Ikea and caught the bus and train back home. Yes, I left the heavily laden trolleys, and I guess Mr Ikea might just have to take the economy flight from Zurich to Nice this weekend.

Four and a half hours of my precious life gone, to no avail.

But, I have a plan.

Tomorrow, I am going to walk Frederiksberg and buy a bed. (First Sunday of the month so shops are open). I don’t care if it costs more. Then, I am going to shop at Ikea online and get everything else, like the three-seater sofa delivered from Sweden, as I should think Dronning Margrethe does.

Cold aside, I bought a nice bottle of French chardonnay from the local Cold War-esque supermarket on the way home. (Last week, they had pre-prepared lasagne too - this week they don't...)

I have a glass of it now and I’m looking fondly at the bottle.

I’m getting drunk and going to bed.