Sitting in the Ikea cafe this morning thinking I could be herding reindeer.

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The sounds from the coffee machine resemble a particularly virulent bout of diorrhea ... diaorhea ... diarrhea (that's it - there is no 'o' in diarrhea but there is in diorama).

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Ikea sells boiled eggs for breakfast but does not provide teaspoons. E. abandons the dessert spoon after two attempts, then improvises first with a wooden stirrer, then the slightly concave wrong end of a knife. Success! A true bricoleur.

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I notice the sprigs of parsley carefully placed adjacent to the salmon or meatballs in the display photos. The semiotics of such cafeteria imagery: connotations of freshness, Nature, haute cuisine all in an attempt to conceal marketing connivance and portion controlled servings.

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Unusually we elect to follow the arrows on the floor - obediently taking the prescribed path through this wonderland of pre-fabricated self-constructed living. Imagine John Ruskin shopping in Ikea ...

We still manage to get lost somewhere in Shelves.

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Back home I build my desk with (unexpected) assistance from L. It is simple and white and nothing to write home about. But it does the job as desks go. It will do.

Sitting at it I could be back at school or in a bay of a college library.

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Far away, reindeer are grazing. I can see them from my desk.