I’ve been doing a spot of housework. Remarkable, I know. But I’m a surprisingly resolute little thing and I intend to go through all the cupboards and drawers in the house, in my own time. Today, it was the double cupboard in the kitchen where I keep crockery, followed by all the spices I could amass. Of the former, not a lot has changed but the bewilderingly dusty cupboard isn’t any longer – how does dust get in a closed cupboard that I empty and wash at least once a year? And all the out of date spices have gone and I must buy some jars because I keep too many in packets and can’t tell what they contain without removing the packet from the shelf.
This sounds terribly, terribly dull, but it gets worse. I spent half an hour ironing. Worse, I was ironing tablecloths. Except that, after three of them, plus a number of napkins and handkerchiefs, I rebelled and shoved the other two tablecloths back whence they came. But I’m going to do the lot, which includes my entire stock of double damask dinner napkins and most of my summer wardrobe.
After that, we had kippers for supper.