Waiting for a rug

When we purchased the Canary Wharf flat, the beige carpet in the living room had a rug on it. I can only assume it was meant to break up the beige-ness, given the carpet and the similar walls. Whoever chose the rug clearly only saw things in black and white (or merely shades of beige) and decided a rug the same colour as the carpet would be just perfect. It has irritated Mirinda for as long as we’ve owned the place.

A couple of weekends ago, Mirinda finally decided on a rug she liked and I was tasked with ordering it and then organising delivery at the flat. After a bit of a hiccough last week when they wanted to deliver it on a day I’d not be able to take delivery, it was rescheduled for this afternoon.

I duly accompanied Mirinda on the train into town, making a trip to Waitrose for food before letting myself into the flat.

I had decided that I would make myself very useful today. The delivery was timed to be between 1 and 5pm so I could have a long wait. There’s a number of outstanding jobs around the flat which I needed a few articles of hardware to do so I went to Robert Dyas. I have to say that the Canary Wharf branch of Robert Dyas is pretty close to useless when it comes to wall anchors and drill bits!

My next stop was Waitrose. For the second time. Mirinda wants an iPod docking station with a CD player attached. Should be easy to find in the electric department of John Lewis, one would think. And easy to find is exactly what it was. I found one that would fit the bill. Finding a shop assistant, however, was not as simple.

I waited for ages, looking like I needed assistance, desperate to give them some money in exchange for goods. Eventually I approached the nearest cash point. There was no-one there. I was about to give up when a chap appeared, arms full of boxes. I asked if he could help me since he ignored me somewhat. He pointed, with his chin, at a man with a baby, mumbling something about serving him.

There then entailed a lengthy procedure of the man with the baby trying to buy a cable. Every time he came close to completing the transaction, the child decided to run off. The man would retrieve the child and start again. I think the child has perhaps just started to walk and is full of inquisitive wanderings. The man had a stroller which made me wonder why he didn’t use it in such a situation.

Eventually, though, the man took his package and left. The shop assistant then turned to me and asked what I wanted. He was very polite but failed to smile or make me feel he actually wanted my business. I explained I wanted to buy a stereo and took him to the one on display. He then searched all the shelves I had already scoured, turning up nothing. He then went to his terminal, punched a few numbers in and turned back to me.

“Sorry, sir, we don’t have that one.” He explained, clearly bored.
“Well, I wonder that it’s on display, if you can’t actually sell one. What’s that about?” I asked with incredible restraint.

He had no answer, merely shrugging. I left for the escalator going down to the homewares department.

Apart from the bland rug, the flat also contains the most useless collection of glassware I think I’ve ever seen. Unless you want an eyebath or a glass of champagne, the vessels are next to useless. Mirinda wanted some nice bright tumblers – the kind of glasses that normal people have in their cupboards.

The Olympics have a lot to answer for in this city. Apart from thinking everyone who drinks beer only drinks foreign, fizzy, tasteless rubbish, they have also infiltrated the homeware shelves of John Lewis. If you really want glasses or mugs emblazoned with the Olympic logo or weird mascots, then you’re more than adequately catered for. If, like me, you just want some normal glass tumblers, the choice is not so wide.

After a search that Dr Livingstone would have been proud of, I managed to find the only coloured tumblers (not in a box mind you, unlike the Olympic ones) and bought four. The shop assistant (aged about 30) called me young man for some inexplicable reason but at least she smiled and seemed pleased to be serving me.

It then occurred to me to try Curry’s for the iPod/CD combo. I looked at my watch and I had an hour before the rug was due. I could have saved myself the trip. The only one they had was ridiculously overpriced and was unbelievably ugly. I walked out of the store before anyone could accost me. Not that anyone looked in the least ready to accost me but I like to pretend I’m visible sometimes.

Even Starbucks was incredibly slow. This was mainly due to the fact that an employee was buying a coffee (obviously his day off) which meant everyone had to chat with him rather than serve everyone else in the queue behind him.

Starbucks have started asking for your name when you order a take away coffee so they can write it on the cup. I have no problem with this and am amazed at how many variations for ‘Gary’ that there are. ‘Gheri’, being my favourite at the moment. Because I was in a rug-arrival hurry, I just said ‘G’. The girl looked at me quizzically but my expression made it plain I was in no mood to dally. When I collected my drink, the cup had ‘Gee’ written on it.

The rug arrived at about 3:30 and I immediately spread it where the beige one had, until recently lay. It looked fantastic. In the words of the Dude, “It really brings the room together.” Here’s a photo I took with my phone, which I sent to Mirinda, prompting her to immediately ring me to discuss it.

The new red rug

I managed to get the 4:30 train home. Apart from the rug and four glasses, it wasn’t the most successful of days! Though, I did find Wally. he was outside Waitrose.

Where's Wally Faberge Egg