Chronicles of a Trailing Spouse...

Ever since an illicit copy of the Ikea catalogue landed in my lap sometime in the early 2000s, I’ve had a love affair with the store. Back in those days -- due to Irish planning laws which deemed the store too big -- there was no Ikea in Ireland, and we were obliged to take the ferry to the UK (as we were/ still are for so many other things), or head north of the border to fill our cars to the ceiling with those sleek, Swedish and affordable designs. It moved beyond the dull, family-owned furniture shops which dominated towns and cities of the Republic at the time - with their ugly squishy sofas and mahogany nests of tables. It was revolutionary, it was exciting, with its effortless, clean designs and clever flat-packaging. <><> </> <><> </> <><> </> When the second boy-child was only six-weeks-old, we went on holiday to Tuscany. Yes I know, I know, six weeks old - what was I thinking? And worse was the dis...

Perhaps I was a little unfair to Aussies in my last post. I must admit I was generalising about Midland which -- it must be said -- doesn't fairly represent, well, anywhere. Midland is what you'd call 'red-neck' country, and what else can you expect what with all those houses hidden in the woods and chainsaws and stuff? Oh, and sensual massage parlours, lets not forget about those (my favourite of which is called 'il signore's Retreat - sensual massage' --  which is located between a petrol station and a tyre shop -- and which presumably comes with a happy ending, so to speak). Getting to know you! I reported three months ago that I had yet to lay eyes on my neighbours and as of today this remains the status quo . Although I would quite like to have a word with them, just to let them know that their house appears to be splitting down the middle and on the verge of collapsing and rolling down the hill (I don't think they can see that from their sid...