Responsibilities

I took our summer blankets off the bed this morning, and put the Continental quilt back on.

This is one of those huge things that is called a duvet these days. It is stuffed with goose down, ready for winter.

I do not think I would buy one again because I have found out recently that in some parts of the world, people do not kill the geese before they pluck them, and I do not think that this sounds very kind. If I need another quilt one day we will just rear some goslings up into geese, and eat them for Christmas before we fill the quilt.

I am not sure if that is any kinder really.

I do not want to have one of those quilts that are made of a sort of white candy floss stuffing, because those turn into little bits of micros and turtles eat them by accident in the sea. Sometimes the world is very complicated. It is very difficult to know what to do for the best.

I was sorry, somehow, to make the change. Not just because of summer beginning slowly to dwindle to autumn, but also because of the loss of our bright blankets, which have now been carefully folded and stored under the wardrobe.

They are much, much heavier than the quilt, although conversely not nearly as warm, and I will miss their comforting weight. I will not miss the way they slide slowly over to Mark’s side of the bed, meaning that I have to clutch at them in occasional wakeful moments in the wee small hours, and tug them back again.

I like the companionableness of the blankets. In the summer mornings we have to make the bed together, one of us on either side, lifting and smoothing the thick blankets so that they are even and neatly folded back, with the sheet folded over the top. Obviously you can do it on your own, but it is quicker and nicer with two of you. I like the bedroom by candle light in the evening, with the beautiful walnut brown-and-gold blanket spread over the bed and the white sheet turned down in a triangle to be welcoming.

The Continental quilt is light and soft and fresh. The cover is creamy coloured brushed cotton, and it can be shaken and tidied by one person in a trice, but I was still sorry to lose the lovely colourful blankets.

Mark went to work and I was by myself. I dashed about so much that I was not sorry when the day was over and I had to come out to the taxi rank.

I have been cleaning.

I started almost at the top of the house, in Oliver’s room. Not at the very top of the house, which is the attic. This has become such a dreadful glory-hole that I can hardly bear to go in it. There is a lot of clutter that will one day come downstairs and be part of the new living room, and a lot of clutter that will one day be properly arranged to make the attic into a nice spare bedroom, and a lot of clutter that is winter clothes waiting for the leaves to fall, and a lot of clutter that really is just clutter.

I will go and tidy it up properly soon. All of Oliver’s back to school stuff has gone now, apart from a huge pile of cluttery things that he has outgrown. I do not know what to do with this, since I don’t know anybody who might want it. I suppose really I had better just chuck it in a bag and take it round to Age Concern. I do not want to waste it and be personally responsible for Iceland melting next summer and all of the polar bears floating off on lonely icebergs being followed by David Attenborough.

I worked my way grimly down the stairs, polishing and brushing and wiping until everywhere gleamed. I like our house very much when it is clean, when I win the lottery I am going to buy a person to clean it for me.

I finished in the end, and was just rushing out to the taxi rank when Mark arrived home from work early.

I am pleased to announce that he is going to use his long evening to carry on building the new living room.

I can’t tell you how very pleased I am about that.

The picture is of the newly redeveloped living room. The box of cereal in the foreground is for making cornflake cakes with chocolate and golden syrup, not for eating at breakfast time, what a depressing start to the day that would be. It says on the side that it is made from Responsibly Sourced Corn. I do not know what an irresponsible source for corn might be, probably one from whom you have stolen it.

I am sure that eaters of breakfast cereal will be very glad to hear that they are not accidentally doing anything rascally.   You have got to be very careful to be good these days.

There are a lot of pitfalls in this world.