Take. Tube. A...

I ache. I am very tired too.

Today was "sort the back bedroom out" day at Trump's and this involved:

• Clearing out the back bedroom
• Painting it
• Assembling a huge fucking flatpack wardrobe that had been delivered at 7.30 in the morning
• Being shouted at because it was bigger than we both expected and we couldn't get it to stand up because there wasn't enough room.
• Assembling a flatpack desk - again huge
  
• Putting stuff back in the room

My back hurts and I have carpet burns.

The assembly of flatpack furniture is sometimes quite a challenge. This is particularly the case when the item you are putting together is about 50% bigger than you'd anticipated. It was OK putting the main frame together, but getting it from a lying to a standing position was something of a challenge. She kept shouting at me and shuffling the offending bits of badly joined chipboard around.

"Will you just stop shuffling the fucking thing around the floor and explain to me what it is you're trying to do!"

I snapped. Me!

Would my wonderful relationship with Trump end with me ramming a screwdriver into her head?....

Nah, of course not. We calmed down and got it sorted.

It is fucking massive and I don't think it'll ever come out of that room again. I'm already having wicked thoughts about attacking it with an axe.

Anyway, what else? Ikea is annoying. It attracts annoying people and annoying families. The problem is that you're kind of herded around the recommended walk way and you always get stuck with the same groups of people are you navigate the store. Last night, not wanting to seem anti-semitic - because I'm not, we were accompanied on our trek around the Ashton store by the cast of Fiddler on the roof. Well, not the entire cast, just the annoying fucking children who kept barging into us.

We were also plagued by some chav cow who shuffled her way through life with a sullen expression on her over made-up face. Why can't people pick their feet up when they walk? She was with her mother. If I'd have shuffled about like that with my mum, I'd have been told off.

And of course, there was the obligatory large Asian family with small toddler. It was gone 8pm. Noticing my despair, Trump said "Oh be fair, it looks happy enough."

"Yes, it does now. But it'll be getting tired and all it will take is one tiny thing and it'll kick off and scream round the rest of the store."

Count to five...

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!"

True to form, the little bastard ran into something, bashed itself and then spent the rest of its time there crying its head off.

And Ikea are fuckers. I'd checked their website for the availability of the desk we'd gone to buy and it claimed to have it in stock, but there were none. So this meant a trip to the Warrington store in a panic with my petrol light on. I've never had a petrol light come on before; it was exciting, but quite stressful.

Got to get rest now. Tomorrow promises more stress and excitement. Report to follow.