Every weekend the colour supplements seem to feature profiles of people with improbable names who all appear to live in artfully designed palaces, castles, mansions, idyllic country cottages etc. Never a speck of dust or anything out of place.
The net effect of this unwelcome exposure to these alternative "lifestyles" is to create angst. I am quite clear that if we had a gang of photographers from the Sunday Times turning up we would have redecorated, decluttered, chucked out all the old newspapers, bought fresh flowers, hidden The Boy under the patio, sprayed expensive fragrances everywhere, left some clever books artfully arranged on the coffee table and cleared the 17 layer deep notice board.
Most people don't live like that. (do they?)
Why the grump?
The MIL is coming to stay overnight and the spare room (aka my office) has been declared "a pit". Mrs Nick has been scrubbing, dusting, hoovering, mopping, wiping things with damp cloths for the last 3 hours. I have been instructed to "clean the bathroom." Why? The MIL has known her for, er, 53 years and in any case lives surrounded by mountains of tat and old newspapers herself. But no. The job has to be done. My socks are wet, I can see dust floating in the sunlight and the whole room stinks of Jif, Windolene, polish and god knows what else.
I blame the Sunday papers.
