Steph/ven Ventures into the Lost Realm

After moving into the new apartment, I put together two lists of things to get. The first of these, the "must have" list, was extremely short, consisting as it did of several pieces of bedding, and a replacement light switch. The second list was rather longer, being "nice to have" items such as more bookshelves, a dining table and chairs, and so forth. (The dining table is a "nice to have" because I have a perfectly functional couch in front of the TV at which I can eat, or I could just eat over the sink.)

And so it was that, list in hand, I ventured to the Lost Realm of Ikea, intent on purchasing certain items. Little did I know that I would only narrowly escape with my life and my sanity intact.

Even finding the Lost Realm was to prove a challenge, for I could not make use of Mr Gore's remarkable invention to guide me. Instead, I had to rely on the guidance of a reclusive holy man. This guidance was to take me to Braehead, but once there I would be forced to hope for a sign. And, indeed, a sign there was - three in fact. One read "Braehead West", one "Braehead Centre", and the third "Braehead East". Useful.

There then followed an adventure in consulting an ancient and unreliable map, a journey down some uncharted paths, another mystical sign, and finally the blue walls of the Lost Realm came into sight behind a wall of thick vegetation. I had arrived!

Having parked the car, I proceeded inside the store. I took with me a map and compass, my trusty fedora, and bullwhip. (Note: I may or may not have been carrying some or any of these.) And, on gaining the entrance, I stood enraptured at the wonders that lay therein. Truly, it was a wonder to behold.

My initial explorations were promising. I quickly made the aquaintance of Chris' friends: Billy, Benno and, er, Malm. And the floors were marked with deep channels, carved by the footsteps of thousands of people in ancient times, showing which way one should proceed through the Lost Realm.

But others had clearly not been so fortunate. At one point, I dared to leave the path, in order to examine the range of dining tables, and as the noise of the crowd faded, it was replaced by a feeling of encroaching dread. So deep was the labyrinth that I wondered how a man could not get lost, and I began to see the simple tools and other signs of the primitive people who once made this place their home.

And then I heard the voices. Softly at first, and then with greater volume, they spoke in whispers of purest malice. "Big chap... big chap..." I froze, hoping that like a T-Rex in a bad film they would hunt with vision dependent on movement, and for a moment it seemed I was safe. The chants drifted off, and the sounds of the jungle gradually resumed.

And then, in the gloom, I made out shuffling movement, and a creature emerged.

It might have been a man, once, but by his shuffling gait I gathered this was no son of civilisation. He was clad in a garment of brightest blue, emblazoned with the marks of his tribe, proudest amongst them a declaration of advertising for a well-known drinks firm. And in his fist he clutched a bottle containing a foul and stinking potion. And, as he shuffled along, his eyes chanced to meet mine, and lit with a foul intelligence.

"Big chap!" he exclaimed.

I fled.

I don't know how I survived this encounter, but I soon found myself back on the path, shaken but intact. Passersby shook their heads with a knowing sadness as they saw me, and some helpful souls gestured towards a sign that hung proud, "Don't Leave the Path!"

As for the creature, I can only surmise to its origin. Perhaps, in days of yore, a family had become lost in the Lost Realm. There, somehow, the parents perhaps became separated from their young, who were left to fend for themselves. And so, as the years past, the Lost Realm came to be populated with NEDlings. But how many of them could there be? And are they only one homogenous tribe, or is there perhaps another, locked in a brutal and unending conflict with the first? I hope never to find out.

---

Okay, so that never actually happened. However, I actually did find my travels through Ikea to be oddly unsettling. I'm not sure if it was the omnipresent "new furniture" smell, or perhaps paralysis by options. Alternately, it might be that the place was filled with people, all looking to buy exactly the same stuff for their 'personalised' homes. Because although Ikea has a lot of stuff, it must also cover a lot of ground, and so only has a few options in each area - a fact brought home to me quite firmly when I narrowed my search for bookshelves down to a single item, and "antique effect" set of shelves that was in every way identical to an item owned by the A&A team.

Or perhaps it was the pictures. See, I have considered that my new apartment could do with some nice pictures to break up the plainness of the walls. And, to that end, I have been pointed to some websites that might help. (Or, perhaps, I shall replace my policy of bring a mug home from each of my many travels with one of bringing home a nice picture. That might work quite well.)

What I didn't expect, although perhaps I should have, is that Ikea sell pictures of various sizes. And, indeed, they sell one that I saw in one of the other apartments I viewed. It is a nice picture, but it just somehow seems wrong to be one of several thousand people in the country to personalise my home with an identical picture purchased from Ikea.

In the end, I didn't buy anything from the Lost Realm. The range of dining tables was fairly limited, and none of the options really fit. Unfortunately, as this is pretty much the last piece in the jigsaw, I'm going to have to make sure I get just the right item to match everything else, which is likely to take a while.

As for bookshelves, I discovered that the Laminated Book of Dreams had not discontinued the shelves I already had, and so was able to invest in a new, identical unit to the one that I had. Or so I thought, because it turns out that the extra-deep Beech effect shelves they now stock are a slightly different colour and a slightly different (and worse) design from the ones they stocked four years ago. Still, I have a cunning plan...

And so, there it is, my adventure in the Lost Realm of Ikea.