I’ve had a ‘jolly good go round’ today as my Mum would say. And I must be very godly, whatever that means, as she also says that ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’, mind you, we’re a bit slack on the religious side in this house (as #1 showed when he announced recently that Islam is something to do with someone called Mohammed Ali - apologies to all my Islamic readers - well, you never know).

B made another of her famous ‘escape to victory’ attempts today. I was washing the hall floor (very handy with a mop, me) and as the door was open she went out for a little constitutional, which she’s been doing for ages with no problems. This time, though, she disappeared through a bush into the field, and I had to run round the front of the house, limbo under the barbed wire fence (standing up too early and completely trashing my hip, which hurt immensely) and run through to the field. By which time, she’d gone round the front of the house and was wandering down the drive. Aarrgh! Luckily though, she’s a bit thick, so when I ran back to the house she ran after me (sucker!) and back into the house so no harm done (again!) apart from needing a plaster for my flesh wound (it certainly is fleshy just there, too).

Dog once again safely in the house, I resumed my cleaning efforts. I actually quite like it, apart from the fact that we’ve got one of those ridiculous ‘here, doggy!’ pull-along hoovers. They don’t seem to like upright hoovers in Ireland - it’s impossible to buy one. I end up huffing and puffing trying to pull the stupid thing round corners and getting it caught on chair legs, whacking it into skirting boards and generally being very aggressive with it. After that, I mopped all the hard floors (very amusing watching the dog do a bit of ‘holiday on ice’ afterwards), took all the cushions off the sofas, beat the hell out of them (very therapeutic), vacuumed the sofas then put the cushions all back on and finally sprayed a bit of Febreze about. Top stuff that. I had a email discussion with my friend B about dusting which made me laugh and her take on it is thus: ‘occasionally I’ll be persuaded to wipe my sock over the TV screen, but only when the dust and finger marks are so thick that you can’t tell what it is that you’re actually watching’. Similarly, she likes to give the impression that she might have dusted by squirting Mr Sheen round like air freshener, which I think is a cracking idea. I mean, who ever thought up dusting anyway? All it does is waft all the dust up into the air and if you use polish, you just push a load of dusty sludge up and down the surface you’re dusting. Pointless. By the way, I think polish should be spelled ‘pollish’ in order to distinguish it from Polish, as in someone from Poland, or is that just me?

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