When I’m Cleaning Windows

Ok. Now my parents, it seems, are, when it comes down to it, a bit grubby. I mean, they are not like Steptoe and Son or anything, no rats in the kitchen and dog-food on the sofa, and they do wash up… mostly, and they do change the sheets, occasionally… but they don’t always get round to cleaning the house and it’s extremities as often as they might. This suits me, ‘cos fluff is my hobby and as far as I’m concerned the fluffier the more the merrier, but it comes to something when your Daddy says put our coats on ‘cos it’s cloudy and grey and raining and you go out and it is a lovely bright day and you realise it is because it’s been over a year since they had the windows cleaned. I mean, Quel Fromage! So, on the recommendation of Jane McCormack, next door, whose house permanently looks like an advert for Cillit Bang, only cleaner and who carries a cloth with her even when she goes shopping, Mummy called up a window cleaner. He is called Jack and he came around today. My Daddy was at home, and he always likes to think of himself as ‘Being Down With The Workers’ although he is almost as middle class as an Ocado delivery van , and he greeted the window cleaner with his best mockney accent and a friendly, if deeply patronising, ‘Alright mate. Wanna cup o’ tea? Milk n’ two sugars?’ only for the bloke to put down his ladder and say, in cut glass English. “ Oooh no thanks. Do you have any camomile? With lemon?” which just goes to show that you can’t go on appearances these days and even posh people can have pierced ears and a gold filling! It turned out that the window cleaner comes from Chelmsford, went to Oxford, and has a first class degree in advanced economics. Which, as he explained, is why he is a window cleaner. It’s good business! He’s good too. After he had finished, I was amazed to notice there was a big tree just outside the kitchen window that I had never noticed before and the light coming through the stained glass over the front door fair took my breath away. He was very brave and he sat on the window ledge outside, with his feet inside, even when he had to clean the upstairs, although it is quite high up and we have three floors. When Mummy saw him do that she went a bit queasy and had to sit down but I thought it was great. He was a very nice man too. He let me help by letting me wipe some of the bathroom window and he let me dip my piece of elevenses cake in his washing bucket… well, I say he let me, I kind of just did it when his back was turned but he didn’t make a fuss when his next cloth was full of chocolaty crumbs which he wiped all over our sitting room window, and he didn’t tell Mummy. So that’s nice.