So the plumber came today.
Now I don’t know how it is where you live, but here that is the kind of news that could make the frontpage of the local rag…
I was so pleased to see him, I nearly kissed him, even though we have had to re-mortgage the house to pay for his visit and bung him more than a fistful of fivers to get him here in the first place. And all because I couldn’t go on dive bombing into bed in case the bitterly cold air sand blasted my fair skin. Thermal nighties are so unbecoming.
So I made him a cup of
"Ummm, in what way?" I muttered, certain that he was about to blind me with science.
"Dust, love" he said. Grinning. "Pull these radiators off and this is what you find. Enough dust to stuff a cushion with."
Oh. My. God.
Well now Mr Plumber, I am sure you are mistaken, because I am the Vintage HouseKeeper and I don’t do dust. Oh Lord, I see what you mean.
More dust than you have ever seen. Three inches thick at least. Grey with bad thoughts and mean words we have shoved behind the radiator cabinet . The dustiest, nastiest dust you have ever seen. I am ashamed.
Fur coat and no knickers isn’t in it.