They’ve got you in Ikea. Once you are in there, there are no exits. You have to buy stuff before they let you out. You have to walk past the cafe in order to make your escape. I fancied a sit down. Just prior to our visit to the cafe, I was forced to walk against the arrows on the floor to find some napkins. Hence the desire to park my arse. We were enticed by the special offer of a free coffee with the purchase of a jam and cream scone. The cafe upstairs in ikea is small. There are very few tables and it was packed. After I fought my way through prams, trolleys and massive yellow bags I found myself at the counter, looking for a tray. Danny had sat down. I helped myself to two scones with jam and cream, which were inside a chiller. I collected two empty cups which were further up the counter. I handed my fiver over to the woman. She put the receipt and change in my palm. I filled the cups with two lattes. I collected my own sugar, proper tea spoons (which were not wooden sticks) and, mistakenly, some milk. I sat down. I had made a purchase without the need for speech nor eye contact with any ikea staff. A moment after I joined Danny a very harassed looking woman with two kids asked me if the chairs on our table were free. I said they were. She and her two kids sat down. Then they immediately got up as soon as they saw another table free. The scones were ok, but we both would have loved more jam. Another couple came and sat with us. Me and Danny only spoke to each other in hushed tones at this point. The cafe is, like ikea furniture, functional. Not a centimetre (ikea are strictly metric) of space in there is wasted. We were like battery hens, with our free coffees, at risk of being decapitated by someones enormous yellow bag flying past. We took our own trays back. Danny had left his coffee. He said it tasted of wood
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