Why Ikea made me cry....

I love Ikea! It is one of the few interior design stores (my taste is that simple) that isn't pretentious, I never look at a display and think - "Hah! That'll never survive me/kids/dogs/chocolate brownies/mud/hubby etc!" Ikea always feels homely to me.

I love the prices, the products, the cookies, the layout, the meatballs, the cheap knick knacks and inspired storage ideas. I miss it almost daily now that we live here in NZ and know in my heart that I didn't invest enough money time in our relationship when I was in the UK.

As you are guessing, I went to Ikea when I was in Brisbane. As I stepped through the doors, the memories flooded back. My heart pounded, palms grew sweaty and Stud1's face paled as he saw me calculating what I could buy according to the 24kg I had left in my luggage allowance. 

As we moved through the departments, looking briefly at things we couldn't take on a plane, my joy at being in my favourite interior shop, faded.

I looked at the kitchens - so cheap, so perfect, so what I need.

My books would have a home and I could read in peaceful surroundings... (Or swap the white for blue)

I looked at the office and book storage solutions - so affordable, tidy and even I could look tidy with their solutions.

I looked at the children's furniture - Monkey deserved a fun room like those, where everything had a place and yet looked like a kid could have fun in it.

I looked at the living areas - so serene and yet kid friendly.

By the time I got to the kitchen and textile department, and the smell of Swedish meatballs wafted over me, I was close to tears. I realised that even though I love Ikea,  Ikea doesn't love me....

If it did, it would open a shop in New Zealand and allow me to be the owner of a neat and aesthetically pleasing home filled with flat pack delights!