Saturday, June 9, 2012

You should be so lucky

I haven't updated for a while but I'm back now, alright? Want to make something of it? *holds up fists and does boxer style dance.* So, on with the blog.

A place him indoors and I have been meaning to go to for a while is Lucky's Furnitures in Sharjah, home to reasonably priced somewhat eccentric looking Indian and Arab style furniture. It's based on a somewhat non-salubrious industrial estate but, you know, seeking out these hidden gems is part of showing that you're a REAL PROPER EX-PAT now who knows what's what in the UAE and not some fly-by-night who's on a six-month secondment through work who's here today, gone tomorrow.

So off we set, one blazingly hot May day, well, they're all blazingly hot now until Octoberish, on the tandem air-conditioned broomstick for aforesaid establishment. If you think I'm stretching the witch and wizard related analogy a bit far, you just wait.

Lucky's is almost, if not exactly like the Room of Requirement in the Harry Potter books. OK, it may not be quite as complex and grandiose looking as the set for said room in the final two films, but that's what it reminds me of, if, in fact, the thing you most require at that moment is a distressed hand-painted cabinet, an eccentric-looking and potentially lethal cot for your baby, a carved elephant, a selection of antique lamps or a wooden Hindu or Sikh idol.






 
OK, so it's more like the Room of Requirement in appearance than actuality as these rather poor pics show, but you know what I mean, work with me people.

Now this is a garden swing:

It's a bit big for our balcony and heavy to bring up 22 floors, otherwise I would have purchased it, obviously.

We came away with a tallboy that resembles Wizbit, Paul Daniels' yellow cone-shaped pal from the children's TV programme of the same name, but not before we had spent at least an hour getting lost in the warehouse.

There are actually three warehouses which you dart in between to escape into the air con from the blistering sun as quick as possible. We narrowed the choice down to two cabinets - Wizbit or another one which handily had spaces for bottles of wine. Unfortunately, the wine cabinet seemed to disappear. We couldn't find it again. Eerie that, isn't it? We trotted up and down all the rows of the three warehouses returning to the place we thought it was, asked the staff, which was admittedly a bit of a pointless exercise as they spoke very little English and didn't look like the wine drinking sort, so probably had little idea what a wine cabinet was even if they knew what a cabinet was in the first place. But no, it had vanished like Draco Malfoy's vanishing cabinet, and yes, before you say it, I know that it's things or people put in Draco's cabinet that vanish, not the cabinet itself, I told you I was straining the analogy.

So, Lucky's clearly decided it was a Wizbit-shaped cabinet that we really required, not a wine cabinet.  It was probably right. It would probably have just made us buy more wine.

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