So much brain-flexing book talk lately I think it's high time we had a rest and talked about chairs again.
Bookhound has long been of the opinion that the word Ikea is actually a primeval Swedish suicide cry uttered before a person impales themselves on the one remaining bolt fixing left lying on the floor, and which should have gone in before the other fifty.
I stand by and watch and make cups of tea normally but I have had a little I-K-E-A moment of my own recently.
We have looked at and liked and sat in the iconic Ikea Poang chairs for years now...
But we have never actually bought one figuring that perhaps they were better suited to a London penthouse overlooking the Gherkin, rather than a centuries old cottage in the Tamar Valley.
However last week Bookhound returned from his regular jaunt in search of bookshelves and other items of usefulness that we don't really need and came back with news that he had spotted a black Poang for £8. Admittedly not quite as pristine as this one, a little worn on the arms, but in good enough condition for him to sit in it in the warehouse and almost fall asleep. Whatever else they may be we find the Poang extraordinarily comfortable, and always enjoy a little half-way-round rest in a couple on our treks through Ikea before we head towards the meatballs.
Bookhound had been beset by doubts and hadn't bought it, but for £8 we decided it would do a turn on the veranda in the summer if nothing else, so we nipped back and rescued it.
In fact it didn't look half bad in the corner of the kitchen which is maple all over the place, and I quickly realised I could pull it across to the Aga on a chilly day if needs be. But of course bringing a strange piece of fabric into the house, and with no knowledge of its provenance, requires cleaning measures requisite with my nursing qualifications, and infection control and unwanted parasite awareness.
I was delighted to see 60 deg washing machine instructions, though that wouldn't have stopped me, because let's face it new covers are relatively cheap, but even better there were zips which gave access to the foam cushions. I whipped those out, set the cover up for a decent pounding in the Bosch and then had it drying over the Aga for two days.
I just knew there may be trouble ahead.
After an hour, several broken nails, and the firm conviction that either I had experienced shrinkage or this foam was never really meant to fit in the allotted space and it had all been an illusion, I resorted to much shrieking of I-K-E-A, which I really find does help to let off steam in the heat of battle. With the final closure of the final zip I had eventually won the war...
and yes, it will do a turn, though I can only hope it won't need washing for another hundred years.
Except then the Gamekeeper popped into his old homestead to say hello and have a brew and sank into it...
'Blimey, this is a comfortable chair...it's just what I need next to my Rayburn...'
How could we not, we enjoyed it for the four hours we had it anyway.
Have you had I-K-E-A moments too?