I have not been looking forward to today.
Today’s job was the dirtiest and most horrid of them all, and really I should have done it ages ago, but I didn’t.
Today’s job was to clean out the fire. The weather is beneficently sunny and warm, and hence it is no longer lit, I have even turned off the central heating pump. It was glowering dirtily at me from the fireplace, and I knew that it needed some attention.
I don’t just mean emptying the ashes and giving the grate a little polish. Actually I didn’t do very much with the stove itself really. That is Mark’s department. Every now and again he drags it out and sweeps the chimney and welds the boiler back together and paints the cast iron bits black again. This is one of the very good things about being married. I can leave the stove to squat rustily just where it is, and know that sooner or later it will magically become black and shiny again without me needing to worry about it at all.
Today I swept it out and put one of those logs in it that is supposed to sweep the chimney for you, or at any rate, to turn all of the soot into flaky bits that can be swept out when somebody gets around to sweeping the chimney. Then I scrubbed the fireplace.
That doesn’t sound like very much, but the fireplace goes back into the chimney breast. It is the place where we store firewood, lots of firewood, and it was filthy. I mean, really filthy, with shovelfuls of dust and dead spiders and general post-log detritus.
I cleaned it all out. Actually, I scrubbed it, with soapy water and a scrubbing brush, like the Victorian housemaid again. It looked a bit better when I had finished.
I have spent so much time scrubbing things lately that my computer no longer recognises my fingerprint. I am going to have to keep typing in my password until it grows back.
After that I painted it.
I painted all of the walls around the fire, because they were black with firmly stuck-on grime. When I had finished, since of course by then I was covered in paint already, I painted the clothes drying racks. These had to be dismantled and removed to the garden.
I moved the washing out of the way first, and was very pleased with myself for such prudent foresight.
I was so pleased with the newly clean effect that I dashed upstairs and painted the banister as well, which has been looking grubby lately, and which has proved resistant to scrubbing.
Things are looking splendid.
It is just as well, because it is looking as though I am going to be spending rather a lot of time in the house over the next couple of days.
My clutch is starting to pack up, and I have got to take my car to the garage.
This is the sort of thing that happens when your husband is not at home and you are suddenly exposed to the perils of the world. Usually when something goes wrong I just explain to Mark that I would like him to do something about it, and like the stove, the issue resolves itself without my needing to trouble myself with it any more.
Now I have got to manage all by myself.
We have known for some time that it was on the way out, but hoped that it would last, which it hasn’t. Instead, in the time-honoured way of taxis, it has decided to collapse just before one of the busiest weekends in the year.
I rang the garage last night, frantically.
He called me back this morning and told me that if I brought it in today he would fix it tomorrow, and so I am going to take it into Kendal after work tonight.
I had thought I would come back on the train, but one of the other taxi drivers very kindly offered to bring me back. This is very good of him. The usual taxi-driver approach to one of our own with a difficulty is to laugh uproariously and then remind them of their bad luck as often as possible, at mirthful intervals.
I am very touched indeed that he has not done this, not to mention gratefully relieved. He explained that he would be happy to do it because all trains were horrible and all passengers were horrible, and it would be a horrible experience.
He works on the station and so he can be considered an expert.
Hence I am chugging around this evening slowly, hoping that I will not need to go up too many hills. I am going to be a pedestrian for a couple of days.
I am certainly not looking forward to that.
All the same, I will be able to get lots more scrubbing done.
