I've Got No Ikea

I moved from one Ikea town to another, but until yesterday I hadn't visited the new home of pointless things I don't need... but secretly do. And after yesterday... I think I won't be visiting it again. The chaos of the Croydon branch is my type of chaos. You wander around aimlessly if you're not lucky enough to remember how to take the short cuts and end up picking up so many tea lights and random kitchen utensils that you can't carry the yellow bag without things falling out of each end.

Bristol, Bristol, Bristol. What is your Ikea about? I have to order my flat pack, pay for it and then get in my car and drive round the block to get it?! Whaaaaaaaat?! The store is tiny in comparison to the Croydon branch [from what I can tell... there really aren't enough nerd facts on the internet about Ikea stores], I can't believe you couldn't find a space that was big enough for one complete store.

While it was a novelty to have to take a second expedition to get my flat pack, my advice to you Ikea is get a bigger sign on the pick-up depot.

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