The home of the haikulator



My Stand-up & gigs
The Coding Craftsman

The Musical!
Incredible Productions


Previous Posts

Long Time
Bye, Then
No Titchy Reception
On the way back
Hot Train
Saturday's Challenge
Friday Fun
Joining Technorati

Blog Archives

October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
August 2009
September 2009
January 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
October 2011
December 2011
February 2012
March 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
July 2012
March 2013
April 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
September 2013
October 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
May 2014
July 2014
January 2015
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
May 2015
June 2015
July 2015
August 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
July 2016
August 2017
January 2018
August 2018
September 2018

Global Domination

Locations of visitors to this page

Tuesday, August 1

Ikea Again (and Road Rage)

Getting back home last night, after a quick stop at my now-ex-house to pick up my bike, and after a trip to Tesco to be weighed and discover that I have lost weight, but accidentally had gained weight last time, I was fed and told that we were going to Ikea. Fair enough. I don't hate Ikea.

So, off we toddled. We were buying a table for my girlfriend's mother. This is all part of a plan to sort the house out, and I'm always happy to help with plans to sort things out. There was a none-too-subtle suggestion that my trip to Ikea was also recompense for my forthcoming week's gigging. Whatever.

Ikea was looking particularly gaudy that night, though I was amused to find a chair called Harry, another called Roger and another called Nandor - which is close enough to Nando's for me!

We found the table and had trouble putting it on the trolley. Some random man turned up and told me that I should really get one of the staff to help, since it's their job. Then the random man offered me his help and I accepted. We soon had the table on the trolley. The fun, however, was about to begin.

We stood in the check-out queue for about 20 minutes. It was desperately dull and made me want to shout at someone. Loudly. Docile staff at 11.30pm slowly putting Ikea's crap through the till. It was simply not good enough. We all know that Ikea exist for two reasons: to sell reconstituted sawdust, covered in plastic, and to make their real profits from selling £1 hot dogs to people who leave, having paid their "Ikea Tax" - the £30 charge levied to all customers, for which you get a bunch of tea-lights, some glasses, some sticks and some more sticks.

Following the check-out, we got to the outside, where we were well and truly pissed on with rain. Unpleasant.

At the car we discovered that the table was about an inch too wide to go in to the boot nicely, so it went at an odd angle and we had to drive home with the boot held down with a bungy cord. I keep one in the boot for such eventualities, which makes me feel slightly self-satisfied when such an eventuality occurs.

I chuntered about the bad drivers and stupid pedestrians enough to get myself into trouble with my girlfriend. I think it came to a head when I stopped at a zebra crossing to let the woman, who was standing in line with it, facing the other side of the road, cross, and then she looked at me sheepishly and indicated that she wasn't planning to cross the road, to which I drove on, exclaiming loudly "Well, you shouldn't be standing at a crossing then", obviously audible through the ajar boot. Well... she shouldn't! Why are people so stupid? Seriously. There are some docile imbeciles out there, and they're invariably in my way.

I'm probably suffering some sort of ongoing state of road rage these days. Whenever I drive somewhere, I'm usually in a rush and usually on roads which are busy. I notice the docile middle-lane hog. I notice the boy-racer who aggressively scares people and creates a hazard. All I want people to do is get on with it. Move along the road and make space for me to do so too. Don't crash into me, or endanger me, and I'll try to do the same for you. I may wish to scoot along at the maximum possible speed, which probably means that if you're not making the most of the lanes available, something odd will happen - I will undertake if I have to, as I'm not going to sit in extra traffic because someone else doesn't know how to drive. Conversely, I will encourage people to take the time to get into the right lane... like that time I flashed a woman to show her that she was sitting in the outside lane for no reason and she responded with her opinion that I was a wanker. She was right, but I got to my destination quicker with her behind me.

I think this week, where I shall drive infrequently, along with Edinburgh, where I'll also be off the road, will be good for me.


Post a Comment

<< Home

All content ©2001 - 2012 Ashley Frieze