Ikea, Australia, I Love You.

I wonder how many of us men are Ikea phobic?
Now, I appreciate a lot of what Ikea does, yes, I confess, I could live in a totally Ikea-equipped home, quite happily.  And I'm a design-freak, I like good design, and I know a lot of people hate Ikea's style. But the stores?
They are hell to a shopophobe.
I hate shopping.
I really do. (Unless it's for tools. I can shop for tools for hours).
So, Ikea=Hell to me. It's full of women dragging shell-shocked men around. And screaming kids. Hell. Hell. Hell.
But Ikea in Sydney, Australia, came up with the idea of a man-creche.
Ladies, dump your man at the man-creche, and go off to get the things you desire without him dragging along and muttering darkly  "taupe, hah! aubergine...  avocado, agh,  looks like cat-sick...."


You get a timer that buzzes after half an hour (yes, I thought that too, 'half an hour?' in Ikea? ), and reminds you to pick him up before you leave.
All I've got against this experimental concept is that they seem to think all men are interested in sports, (I'm not), and it doesn't look as if you can get a pint of beer. Pint of beer, sofa, lego, I'd be happy.
Now, I know, ladies, that you'll think it's a cop-out, and that he should do his share of selecting furniture. But think about it. You ask his opinion, and he hasn't a clue, you're trying to colour-plan, and he likes the dull-green one... You've chosen the absolutely right one for the corner by the window, but he wants the one that will clash with your grandmother's quilt......
Just make life easier for yourself, spend as long as you want over the floormats or bath-towels, with no whining or grumbling to distract you.
Oh. And don't be tempted to go home without him, Ikea will send him to the pound, his ear-tag will be scanned, and you'll get a fine.