My husband drags the pram out from the back of the garden shed. We both gaze at the seat padding that has been enjoyed by some resident rats. “Once I’ve given it a good wash, it’ll be as good as new,” my husband says optimistically. However, I think we both know that despite expecting our fourth baby, it really does deserve a little better transport than this.
My mother and me arrange a day trip to Southampton to browse buggies. “Make sure you just buy essentials for the baby,” he says as we drive off. As we arrive in Southampton, we are greeted by a huge building with a familiar yellow sign on it screaming out, “IKEA”. We could not possibly ignore it and decide we should pop in briefly to look at the much talked about new store.
This was our first mistake. Our second error was to pick up a brochure, small pencil and order pad, a helpful large branded shopping bag and a map at the entrance. Once you are armed with the Ikea accessories it is almost certain you will purchase. We wander around the room displays as if we are viewing a new house full of well-designed rooms and perfectly placed, matching accessories. What makes it even more enticing is that there are affordable price tags hanging from each item, appealing to bargain hunters like my mother and I. We busily fling ourselves on nearby sofas and marvel at footstools. Thankfully though the limited boot space of our Nissan Micra curtails us.
Next the yellow arrows lead us to what can only be described as a department full of non-essential accessories. However, using the predictable Ikea pricing guide they cleverly encourage shoppers that you need 100 tea lights alongside the 25 Tupperware sandwich boxes.
Three hours later, we finally leave to rapidly begin our pre-baby shop. We swiftly choose our pram and realising there is no chance it will fit in the car, arrange for it to be delivered the following week. At home, my husband cheerily greets us in the driveway, excited to test drive the new pram. He opens the boot, spots the mound of Ikea bags and lets out a large groan. I quickly reassure him that there is nothing to self-assemble. He holds up a random large lampshade and looks at me with eyebrows raised. “It looked so pretty on display,” I reply. “Where is the pram?” he then asks. I make a quick dash for it, saying “Just putting the supper on.”
