Interrupting your conversation, I confuse you both. A life-size dolls house, Ikea is strangely intimate. I sit on the sofa, examining a ladle and admiring the Alvine Räffla cushion cover design, whilst you two joke about the night ahead and which of you has on better earrings. I trip over my own words. If I’d had a pot of tea, I’d have offered you a cupful, but instead I think I am in your home and that your ‘Can I Help You?’ badges mean more than suggesting furnishing advice. I think I should have chosen the red, not the paisley.
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