Deafinitely Girly's pre-Christmas clearout

Good morning from my freezing, unheated bus – the only glow coming from the amazing sunrise…

And what a brilliant weekend I had.

On Friday, I met up with Accent Man and I think we should both be congratulated for not falling asleep in our dinner. After we both had pretty mad nights out, we were more than a little tired, and this played havoc with me understanding what he was saying… and actually with him understanding me, too. As I face-planted my duvet for a full 10-hour kip, I couldn't help but curse the Christmas season for making us all so tired and busy.

Anyway on Saturday I was up bright and early to join the Singing Swede for a punishing gym class – it was so punishing that we both came out with faces redder than Santa's, but with stomachs considerably flatter.

On my way home from the gym I took a wrong turn and ended up at IKEA – surely a recipe for self harm on a Saturday morning, but surprisingly it was really rather empty and I whizzed around the market place picking up the things I needed, and of course the things I didn't, too.

And Sunday? Well after a half-hearted workout with the Singing Swede and a wholehearted catch up with her on the running machine, it was time for some life admin. To throw away the thousands of photographs that will never make the album cut, to clear out the crap I will never wear, read or use again and to sort my head out for 2012…

Sitting on my living room floor, surrounded by photos of my eight years in London, I couldn't help but feel my tired spirits lifted by the knowledge that, even with their challenges, they've been a good eight years.

And with an emptier, more organised flat, I know I've made room for the next eight years, too.

A helping hand in IKEA

Regular readers will know that I've recently just bought my first flat and, although I am incredibly biased, I have to say, it is absolutely gorgeous!

At the moment I have two household missions:

To get my bedroom sorted to accommodate my – ahem – minimalist tendencies, and to get my spare room sorted so it's a peaceful haven for guests, not an extension of the erm... blatant minimalism in my bedroom.

So, this means storage, which of course means IKEA!

And so, I measured and hunted around in my dog-eared IKEA catalogue until I found something that was affordable and in stock at my local store, and set off for the big blue and yellow shop.

The trip was a success! Of course I filled my yellow carrier bag with things I never knew I needed on the way round, before coming to my senses, putting it all back and heading to the warehouse bit.

There, I found my chest of drawers. It had a warning sign about needing two people to lift all 43kg of it, but as there was no one around, I had a go. Well I could lift half of it, but the other 21.5kg was staying firmly put.

So off I went in search of help, and found it. He also reassured me that help would be at hand in the car park, too. But unfortunately, anyone who worked at Ikea at the exact moment I needed a hand with my heavy box, was involved with trying to diffuse a fight that has erupted inside the revolving door of the entrance to the shop.

It was quite a sight... 8 hoodies, trapped as by then the revolving door had given up trying to revolve, beating the crap out of each other!

So, anyway, this meant I was stuck in the car park with a great big heavy box and no way of getting it in my car. I did try though. First, I levered it onto my knees with a view to sliding it into my boot. Then I tried pushing it from one end, but it kept getting stuck. I looked around for possible men to help me, but they were all holding tightly to a girls hand, and asking a guy to help you while he's doing the IKEA mating ritual with his partner is easier said than done.

Then all of a sudden a shrill voice piped up, 'Can I help you, love?'

I looked up, and there in front of me stood a 40-something lady, peroxided hair, ruby red talons, massive heels and a rather glamorous outfit!

But who was I to turn down an offer of help when I’d spent the last 20 minutes trying to get the box in my car with little success.

And she was brilliant!

She got this amazingly heavy box into my car with me, without batting an eye lash, and I think I was more worried about her breaking a nail than she was!

As she waved me off, I couldn't help but smile about how lovely people can be, and how the most unexpected people step in to help.

I must remember to return the favour if I ever see another like me, in IKEA alone, thinking they can lift 43kg boxes.

Make sure you do the same please!