Just how many days, I wonder, can I fluff around without exactly having to say: well that was another day in which we did nothing but clean. We've only been there a week, just how dirty can a house get for crying out loud.
Today is definitely the last of the annual cleaning days. The oven's clean, or as clean as it's going to get, the workshop floor is all but shiny, the towel rail in the ensuite doesn't wiggle any more and we are back in the big smoke tickling Mr Four and passing the little one's round.
Actually we're not passing them round at all, I am having all the turns, because MY cold has gone completely. My nose isn't runny nor my eyes watering, so I get them all for my own selfish grandfatherly purposes.
Now I'm looking for something that I can slip to her to prolong the common cold.
This all seems a long way away from the life we were leading just a few weeks ago, but I can always pop out into the yard for a bit of canal boat respite.
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