I remember going to Ikea many years ago, with my wife’s Celica (which, it must be said, was surprisingly good for moving stuff). I strolled around the shop choosing beds, wardrobes and other such things without a thought in my head apart from how nice they would look. I then paid for it all and, because these items were from the second warehouse round the back, drove round to pick them up without a care in the world.
I stood there daydreaming until the assistant rolled out a trolley with this mountain of boxes on it and it was only at this point that I realised that I would have to get all of this in the car. I might have stood their gaping with a slightly sinking feeling in my stomach…
“Hold on a second, sir, while I go into the back and get the other trolley”
Doh!
(But, to my endless amazement, it all went in, with the boot lid tied shut and the two longest boxes for the sides of the bedframe propped on the shoulders of the driver’s seat, either side of my head. I had to duck to look out of the windows! I wouldn’t do that journey again for all of the meatballs and weird sauce in the world…!)