A Shabby Interior

"The people I know who used to sit in the bathroom with pornography, now they sit in the bathroom with their IKEA furniture catalogue." Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club (1996)

I've been to Ikea before. It was over ten years ago. Perhaps it was fourteen. We went as tourists.

A group of us visited Brent Park Ikea and the Neasden Temple. Some friends lived nearby and this was our excursion. We didn't buy anything, nor did we intend to. Herded like cattle, we felt out of our depth, unable to browse and unable to detour. It was as though we were part of some kind of postmodernist line of Fordist consumers. Follow the arrows or evil shall befall you.

We were poor back then. Expenditure was for Christmas, and none of us believed.

We cooked on a Baby Belling and walked on painted floorboards. We had no carpets and our sofa cost £40. We wanted for little. I used to jump the train to work. Every little helps.

Consumerism was something to watch with intrigued eyes. It was not part of our everyday lives. To us, Ikea was an emporium for the settled and the staid. The aggressive nature of the Ikea shopping experience was really quite shocking.

Shoppers travelled miles. The turgid air of dank middle-aged competition filled our lungs. It felt tight, depleted of life's great staples: goodwill and oxygen.

Like rats in a storm drain we went with the flow and the flow was fast. Forcibly pushed through every floor of the store, we weren't too sure of what we'd passed by. "I think I just saw something there. Oh no, it's gone". Somehow, people gathered furniture to complete their homes.

Yesterday, with friends in Coventry, I visited Ikea for a second time.

The furniture that fills the homes of my friends and family was all about me. It was like being in the giant home of someone I love. Oh how things change.

We bought cushion covers and tablecloths. We are part of the Ikea set now.

We still have a plastic garden table in our living room.

It might be cheap. And, yes, it was designed for outside eating. But, it's the perfect size and cannot be faulted in functionality.

We considered buying an Ikea oak table. We got home, looked at our table, and changed our minds.

Once we upgrade tables, we'll have to get precious. "Use a tablemat". "Don't put your plate there". "Oh no, you’ve spilt your drink and now I'll have to kill you".

Green plastic legs poke out from beneath our new Ikea tablecloth. The old table remains.

It might wobble when we cut bread, but we like it. It's kind of homely and it's kind of us.


Fabpants Recommends: There are some things that I mean to tell you about, but don't. I forget or never get round to it. You know how it is.

I meant to provide a full report of the three fantastic plays that I saw last year. The Norman Conquests is a trilogy written in 1973 by Alan Ayckbourn. The original cast included Penelope Keith, Felicity Kendal and Michael Gambon. How fucking cool is that? The cast for us included Stephen Mangan from The Green Wing and Jessica Hynes from Spaced. I loved the trilogy, but in deciding not to write about it until I'd seen all three plays (which took months), I never got round to it. Ho hum.

I never completed my Barcelona diary way back when. I still intend to tell you about Rome. There is much, much more. Life is for living and relaxing. Time is an abstract.

A few weeks ago, when we were cosy with colds, we spent a weekend on the sofa. We watched the entire first season of The Life and Times of Tim. Before it’s too late, I have to recommend this programme and YOU have to watch it.

Having found myself delighted by King Creosote at Bestival last year, I looked forward to their new album, Flick the Vs. I have it now. Here is a wonderful taster:



On a Scottish note, I've also been listening to God Help the Girl, Stuart Murdoch's new project. There's a Belle and Sebastian revival at Flat 1a.

Here's a freebie from the God Help the Girl website. Enjoy.

Download MP3: God Help the Girl – Come Monday Night