For some reason even we cannot divine, we think it’s a good idea to go to IKEA on a bank holiday Sunday. I project manage the hell out of it, and the six items on the list have been acquired with almost minimal levels of fuss. We reward ourselves with a slightly early lunch. I am a creature of habit, and so it’s straight to the meatballs for me. Resisting the pavlovian response to assume that - based on the last two times I ate at an IKEA - I am about to see Radiohead live, I still enjoy the meal on its own term. It’s your classic. Meatballs, mash, peas, lingonberry jam, a lovely creamy gravy. It’s not high cuisine, but neither is it artisan furniture, so what do you want? I cannot resist a slice of the Daim cake either, a treat atop a treat. Now to lug back various bits of underbed storage and jars to a bus stop. Happy bank holiday.