Ikea Ideal Day: 2013 365 Challenge #314

Ikea, Milton Keynes – photo by Ian Paterson

Family Martin woke up grumpy today. We’re all still adjusting to the new normal, particularly poor hubbie who is feeling squeezed between work and the children, with no time for him. We had promised the kids a trip to an indoor play centre, but we weren’t in the right frame of mind.

When hubbie is low, spending money acts as a pick-me-up so, as we’ve also been promising the kids new wardrobes for ages, we decided a trip to Ikea might be in order. It tends to be a momentous family outing, because it’s miles away and the children aren’t used to car trips over an hour. I loaded up the iPad with TV shows, chucked in some snacks and off we went.

Ikea on a Saturday is a crazy idea, but we went with a plan. After twenty minutes waiting for a parking place, and another twenty minutes queuing for the obligatory meatballs, we happened to mention to the children about the crèche, not thinking for one minute they’d entertain the idea. They cry going to nursery, after three years of going, so dropping them with strangers seemed unlikely.

Happy crèche

They were keen to try it, though, so we booked them in and spent the half hour wait letting the darlings pick the colours of their wardrobe doors. Amazingly they then went into the crèche without a fuss. Hurrah.

Oh my goodness what a difference! I can’t imagine trying to design, order and pick the twenty-odd components required for their units with them competing for our attention. As for getting through the market hall without, “Mummy I want… mummy look… mummy can I…?” Instead our bag only contained a couple of stocking fillers and the usual tat hubbie and I couldn’t leave without. 🙂

The best part was going to pick them up after the hour and seeing two happy smiley faces. Free childcare (which I get very very rarely) and happy kids, what more could you want? When I collected them, daughter said, “Mummy, I don’t want to do crèche again.” Ah well, it was fab while it lasted!

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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Claire cupped her hands around the mug of tea and gazed out the tall Georgian windows at the view. After the bustle of her busy day, it was good to stop and rest her throbbing feet. With a belly full of food and the aroma of hot tea drifting up to her, she felt her face relax for the first time in hours. The Eden Project had assaulted all her senses in good ways and bad, and her mind still wrestled with her Gift Aid idea, wondering if it was possible to take it further than a mere suggestion. There seemed such merit it, her brain wouldn’t let it lie.

When the phone rang, she didn’t realise immediately it was hers. Glancing around the dining room, she flushed as she saw people looking her way. She grabbed the phone from the table and held it to her ear, shielding her face with her hair.

“Hello?” Her voice came out in a hiss.

“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Robert? No, of course not. How are you? Why are you calling? Is everything okay?”

“Can’t a man call his sister without it being the end of the world?” Robert said defensively and Claire smiled. It was clear he wanted something.

“Maybe not every brother, Rob, but definitely you. You never call me unless it’s to tell me off.” She remembered the last out-of-the-blue call, after a photo on her neglected blog, and her smile grew wider.

“Yes, well, that’s not why I’m calling. I haven’t spoken to you in a while, that’s all. I wondered how you were getting on. And Ruth, of course.”

“You could call Ruth yourself.”

“I did, actually, but she was just heading out to some meeting at church of all places.”

Claire’s smile dropped as she wondered what her sister was doing going to church on a Wednesday evening. “Was she taking Sky?”

“No, Sky’s with her dad, can you believe? Apparently he’s moved back nearby and sees her twice a week.”

Claire felt genuinely glad that Chris had decided to move nearer to his daughter. She didn’t want to get into that particular discussion with Robert, though. They were unlikely to see eye to eye about it.

“That’s good,” was all she said. “If you spoke to Ruth you know more about her than I do, I’m afraid. We talked a week or ten days ago, but all she had to say to me was about the church, too. I do hope she’s not getting caught up in some cult.”

“In England? Really, Claire, you do come up with the most fanciful things.”

She heard the hesitation in his voice and she imagined him realising that criticising her wasn’t the best lead in to a favour. She was about to tease him some more when her work idea came into her mind.

“Actually, brother mine, I have an concept to run by you. How easy would it be to set up a national scheme to allow gift aid to be taken easily? It only needs to have details like a person’s address and tax eligibility, but it would need to be read by a chip and pin machine or have a barcode or something.”

There was a pause and she could almost hear her brother’s financial brain whirring. “That would be quite straight forward,” he said eventually, “but you’d need someone financially motivated to set it up. Who would benefit?”

“The charities, I guess. Quicker entry time, more gift aid collected.”

“That wouldn’t be enough. Unless each charity were to subscribe, or members paid for their card, who would fund it?”

“What about British Tourism?”

“Hmmm. Possible. Marketing, that’s the key. Being able to use the list of names to market to, or having the card sponsored by a major partner. Interesting idea. Who came up with it?”

“I did.”

“Well, well done sis. It has merit. Let me know if you need financial partners, I can put the word out.”

Claire beamed. If her brother thought the idea had merit, then it wasn’t too daft to put in her report.

“I will. So, why are you really calling?” She decided he’d been too helpful not to put him out of his misery.

“Ah, yes. I have a favour to ask. I was going to ask Ruth, but she didn’t give me a chance and, on reflection, you may be the better person.”

“Come on, Robert, spit it out.”

“Er, can you take the boys for a few weeks in the summer?”

“What?” Claire sat up straight, wincing as her chair legs scraped on the floor. “Why?”

Her words were greeted with silence. Claire waited for her brother to speak, fear twisting at her stomach as she wondered what his next words might be.

“Francesca and I split up. A few months ago, actually. The boys are in a boarding school, so it hasn’t been a big deal. But it’s the long vacation now. Francesca’s having them for half the time, but they’ll be with me for three weeks.” He took a deep breath, and his next words were nearly a wail. “I can’t have them on my own for three weeks! I have to work. And, besides, what do I know about looking after adolescent boys?”

“And I know so much more?” Claire blurted out without thinking.

“Well, you’re a woman; these things come naturally.”

Claire thought about her time with Sky, and snorted. “Not so much.”

“So you won’t take them?” His voice was accusing. Then, in a defeated tone, he added, “I guess I’ll have to ask mother. Or Ruth.”

Good luck with that, Claire thought. She tried to imagine travelling round with her nephews. Would it be so much harder than having Sky? There would be two of them, so wouldn’t they entertain each other? And they were older than her niece.

“How many weeks are we talking exactly? And when?”

“Claire, you’re an angel.”

“Wait, I haven’t said yes. I’m just asking for more information. I can’t have them for last week of July or the first week of August.”

“Oh.” He paused, then said brightly, “Well maybe I can swap weeks with Francesca. How about if I brought them to you this weekend?”

“What? Robert, no, I can’t. My boss will freak. I’m struggling to get into the hostels as it is, without needing two extra beds.”

“That’s okay, the boys can stay in a tent.”

“On their own? They’re only, what, seven and nine?”

“Ten and twelve.”

Oops.

“Even so. And surely Francesca won’t change plans just like that.” She wanted to ask more about the breakup of their marriage, but her head was spinning with the idea that she might have to look after two boys for a fortnight.

“She’ll do what I tell her to; I’m paying her a handsome settlement for her to live in an apartment and get her nails painted.”

So, not an amicable split then. Oh dear.

She thought about her nephews, caught in the middle, shuffled from pillar to post. She thought about them stuck at her mother’s house for two weeks, while her dad wrote his novel and her mum went to WI meetings.

“Alright. I’ll take them. Two weeks though,” she added quickly, as Robert filled the airways with his dignified gratitude. “And they bring a tent.” She thought about how expensive the Eden Project had been, and mentally multiplied it by three. “And you pay for all their accommodation fees and the like.”

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll speak to Francesca, and I’ll call you with the details.”

As Claire disconnected the phone, she wondered what on earth she had agreed to.

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IKEA Nanny Banned Commercial (parisrenovation.wordpress.com)
design at dinner time: the new trendig range from IKEA (thelifecreativeblog.com)
IKEA 365 Campaign (neilperkin.typepad.com)

School Clothes and Climbing Frames: 2013 365 Challenge #178

In the boat with Iggle Piggle

I had a morning away from the laptop and away from writing today. Foolish, maybe, with pressing deadlines looming. But I think sometimes the body and mind need to be replenished. Sitting in the lounge editing for long periods of time is playing havoc with my knees, as I end up sitting with one leg tucked under me without realising.

I do now have a study, but it has a plastic roof so is impossibly hot, and too sunny to see my screen.

So, today, I got out in the sun. Mowed the lawn (and a metal dog bowl, oops), cleaned out my car, and went to collect our new (second hand, thank you ebay) climbing frame. It’s brilliant.

Unfortunately it was still assembled when I arrived and it took the two of us half an hour to get it into enough pieces to fit in my Saab. By the time I’d reassembled it at home, I didn’t have a nail left whole. But we’re so happy with it, and the kids love it. They’ve been climbing and building tents all afternoon.

I also learned first hand today how much nicer it is to complain politely. Valerie, over on Speak Happiness, advocates it, and I admit it’s not always my strong suit. But, today, it felt good. The saga is all about my daughter’s school uniform.

Fabulous new climbing frame

On advice from friends I ordered it all from the M&S website, as they have 20% off, and you can’t always get everything in store. So worth paying the delivery charge. Only apparently I ordered all the wrong sizes (they come up large), so I was a bit worried that I should have just gone into town.

Anyway, yesterday I got an email saying it wouldn’t be delivered until August. Arrggh. Not much time to try stuff on and no opportunity to get the discount on extra things. So today I dragged the poor kids into town after playgroup and we hit the shops. On our second M&S, and with much cursing and searching and some distraction of small boy with ipad, we found all the items we needed, tried them on and bought the lot.

Got home, attempted to cancel my online order: couldn’t. Called them and they said, Oh you should have an email, it’s out for delivery. Due tomorrow. Well, if I’d seen the email I would possibly have been less polite! As it is, I couldn’t fault their charming customer service. The lovely Richard promised me he would try and stop the delivery, or refund it if I managed to turn it away at the door.

Really, though, they need to sort their emails out. I very nearly shopped elsewhere, but their uniform is good value. Thank goodness it will be so much easier with my son. Today I bought three styles of dress, two lots of trousers, two different colour tops, tights and socks, and she already has two different colour jumpers and a cardigan. None of which can be passed down, as none is unisex. I’ve always said I’m happy to have one child of each gender, but clothes is definitely one area where I’m not!

Oh, but she’s going to look adorable! 🙂

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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“Good afternoon, is that Ms Carleton?”

“Yes.” Claire looked around the tiny courtyard garden and tried to work out who would be calling her. She didn’t recognise the voice.

“Ah, Ms Carleton, my name is Roger Hazleton.”

Claire searched her mind for a clue, but none presented itself. He wasn’t a client. God, I hope he doesn’t work for Cocoa Cola or the YHA. Now was not the time to discover Carl’s assignment was indeed a genuine one, only to admit she was spending the weekend at a wedding.

“You recently contacted our newspaper with regards to your blog, and the possibility of writing a regular column for us.”

Claire’s heart began to beat a little faster. She had forgotten about her impetuous email to as many editors as she could find, after Kim’s suggestion that she try her hand at freelance journalism. She never expected anything to come of it, except the satisfaction of doing something that would irritate Carl if he found out.

“We have looked at your blog on the YHA and are impressed with your writing style. And your sense of adventure.”

Claire tried to gauge whether the man was being sarcastic. Deciding he had to be genuine, if he was bothering to contact her, she bubbled with enthusiasm. Roger’s next words stalled her.

“Unfortunately, we can’t offer you anything for your existing journey. There isn’t quite enough excitement to captivate our readers.”

With a wry smile, Claire thought that he would have a different view if he knew the half of what had happened to her since she left home in a battered Skoda, two months before.

“However, I wanted to ask whether you had any intention of continuing your adventures overseas, for example the hostels of New Zealand or Australia?”

Claire’s brain fizzed with the unexpected idea. Her skin tingled. With in-held breath, she asked the burning question. “Why, are you offering to pay for me to go?”

Roger laughed, as if Claire had told an entertaining joke. She laughed too, realising she would only look like an amateur if she confessed she was serious. Clearly that was not what was on offer.

“Wouldn’t that be lovely? No, I’m afraid you would have to pay your own travel expenses, although we would, of course, pay you our standard freelance rate for your column. We can discuss the details later, if you’re interested.”

Claire felt like she’d been walloped with a wet flannel. Leave the UK? Travel somewhere hot and sunny, with attractive surfer dudes and long sandy beaches. It sounded even better than the Maldives. Then images crashed in on her daydream: The look of smug victory on Carl’s face, if she were to resign; Giving up her salary, her career, for a short-term opportunity to earn peanuts; Another stretch of time sleeping in bunk beds. The appeal quickly tarnished.

“Roger, I am flattered by your offer. I’m glad that you believe my writing would appeal to your readers. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to travel overseas at present, unless my expenses were covered.”

There was a slight hesitation and Claire imagined Roger steepling his fingers, trying to decide how to respond. Would he shrug and tell her she was making a mistake, or would he be graceful. She heard him suck air in through his teeth, and prepared herself for rejection.

“Well,” he stretched out the word, as if it were being pulled from him. “I suppose we could advance you a week or two’s salary, if that would help?”

Claire didn’t need solutions, she was already too tempted. Her mind crowded with all the reasons to stay. Ruth, Sky, Kim, they all needed her here. A thought popped into her head unbidden. Josh lived in Australia. With his wife and children.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Of course, I understand. I’ll email you our terms. We’d want to get started as soon as possible.”

Claire hung up the phone and dropped it into her lap. Looking round the raised beds and red brick walls of the hostel garden, she tried to imagine temperate rainforest and endless desert. Ayers Rock and the Sydney Opera House. Her lips twitched and she felt a smile light her face.

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