Ikea

Ikea is amazing – a magical wonderland of stuff for the home. Although I strongly advocate individuality and non-conformity, which Ikea is not with its mass produced Swedish style, it is my guilty pleasure; a Primark for the home.

My most recent trip to Ikea was initially met with disappointment. Having traipsed along the first floor admiring the furniture which I can never possibly hope to afford in the near future, I finally found the haven of the ground floor.

As a 22 year old, I feel rather ashamed at how excited I became by the treasure trove that is the kitchen accessories department. I became utterly lost between the shelves of miraculous pans and sparkling oven dishes. As if that wasn’t enough, the gloriously colourful Tupperware made this lady incredibly happy.

I often wonder that part of my brain is actually a 60 year old woman who is a practical homemaker juxtaposed with a 16 year old adolescent who needed a ‘Maccy D’s’ to complete the day trip, and cure the hangover which had clung on all day from the previous nights debaucheries.

I sincerely hope that I’m not alone in such random flights of fancy. Psychologists often refer to various mental and emotional ages – if this is a scientific fact, then perhaps I am both a 60 year old woman AND a 16 year old girl trapped in the body of a 22 year old.

For all three of my ages, I still have fun – one of the most important things in life, I think.