If only they could have come on a Monday. Mondays are good.
This post is coming to you Live!! from the exotic environs of... er, my dining table. Because my (shared) study has been co-opted by Sky's crime correspondent, now broadcasting Live!! to the interweb (in the form of Second Life), because for some esoteric reason the tech wasn't working in the Sky studios. So Beloved brought them home.*
Which is all well and good, but you see, it's the fag-end of the week. Our cleaner comes on Sundays. And also, I don't seem to be able to keep my desk clear during the week, it gets piled high with crud. And I cannot tell you how distressing I find it to have my home, my not greatly loved home, with its crappy rented furniture and its crowded rooms and its seriously grotty carpets, and on top of all that a week's worth of dirt**, exposed to strangers. Senior meeja type strangers, who probably live in moderately posh houses in Richmond or similar. I feel so exposed.
I want to tell them, hey! We sorted out the garden last weekend! ...but that doesn't really help.
_____
* What tech we have that Sky doesn't have, I can't imagine.
** Two very fluffy cats. Don't underestimate the effect.
2 comments:
Foo! If it's any consolation, my parents, on looking at my garden, immediately set to work because 'We can't have it looking like that when the Smith's arrive this evening'. What's wrong with metre high nettles, I'd like to know?
-starmadeshadow
Indeed. Nettles are a strong garden design statement, and isn't that a good thing?
*sigh* Now you've got me worrying about what my mother is going to see fit to set right when she arrives next week.
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