I have journeyed into what is usually retail hell. Ikea tends to be a slowly chugging crocodile of browsers poring over products like Trøllspit and Flänge.
I’m not a regular at this place so I turned up way too early. In the early morning it turns into a Scandi soup kitchen for the local waifs and strays. Breakfast can be had for a matter of pence. I fit naturally into this milieu, having rolled out of bed for the school run and thus looking like a derelict.
I curse the lacuna, as it has led me within arm’s length of Gifflar, destructor of daily calorie targets.