Unfortunately I’m not going to be outside much.

With Catherine arriving this evening, all that undone housework has got to get done. Oh, for the good old days in my late teens and early twenties when I could just pop some speed on Saturday morning, crank up the music and turn into a lean, mean cleaning machine. (Lean and mean I may have been, but I confess I wasn’t terribly efficient. Too easily distracted from one half done job by something else. Halfway through hoovering I’d suddenly decide the television screen had to be cleaned right now. The odds were fifty/fifty on whether I’d remember to go back to the hoover.)

Anyway, things (including hoovering) need to be done.

I’ve showered (good) and the bread is baking in the oven (good), but I’ve only got seven hours to clean like a fiend. The feather mattress, borrowed so the princess’s sleep isn’t disturbed by a pea, must go on the bed in the spare room and the bed must be made. The kitchen and bathroom floors must be washed, furniture to dust. Oh and soup and hummus must be made. And on and on.

Gotta go.

PS If any of my followers are Yanks:

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