Deep cleaning someone else's house is somehow a more acceptable occupation than deep cleaning your own. But once you start, it's hard to stop. I'll need to go back to finish off half the kitchen and scrub the floor; and with any luck the threat of my return will be enough to persuade the householder to get a cleaner and save me from myself. However there is still a lot of outstanding cleaning and hoovering and washing down of surfaces and floors and dusting to be done in our hose - but it lacks the same sense of satisfaction.
There is an unexplained door in a wall in Bramley, half-hidden behind ivy, and several feet above the road level.
|more practice for the projected holiday sketchbook later this year|
Crochet makes time pass pleasantly when waiting for someone. Or something.
Taking knitting along to the book club 'film evening' (apparently we watch films! I've only recently joined this book club) makes it easily possible to look away during distasteful scenes - I'm thinking of the bit when Fermin is demonstrating his martial arts skills to his girlfriend Cleo, but unfortunately without wearing any clothes - Not a pretty sight. We were watching 'Roma'; a black-and-white film set in 1971 Mexico. I don't think I am giving too much away to say it's a bit like a Barabara Pym novel, updated from 1930s London; at the end, most of the same characters are still living in mostly the same place and mostly the same way in spite of everything. 'Someone remind me why we wanted to watch this film', said one of us (not me). 'Well, that was a good film', remarked another (not me).
Ripping out rows and rows of knitting and then picking up the stitches is a real hassle when one discovers a mistake about ten rows back. (About the time of the martial arts demo, I reckon).
Too much housework, and too many late nights are making me a bit grumpy. Let's see what tomorrow brings.