He Doesn't Look a Thing Like George Formby but he Talks Like a Window Cleaner
It had been a long day concerning itself with crunching numbers so hard that broken teeth were a recurring anxiety. The drive home was a relentless crawl, the monotony of which was broken only by mint humbugs slowly consumed before they disintegrated in the heat. Eventually I made it home, not before taking the long way round to avoid the new roadworks placed at just the right intervals to catch out the unwary motorist. I struggled up the stairs, coats and bags flung asunder to prepare dinner and thereafter a long luxurious soak in the bath. With dinner over, the warm froth of sweet smelling bubbles, flickering candles and soft music tempted me into the arms of sheer indulgence and relaxation. I entered the heavenly bathtub, to relax into the warmth letting the cares of the day melt away.
And then the doorbell rang. I thought about getting out of the bath, then decided against it. This was my moment and nothing should detract from it. The world could wait. A couple of seconds later and the door was rather unceremoniously thumped. Panic skitted across my brain. Could it be a burglar? Surely burglars don’t ring the bell first to ask politely if they can rob your house do they?
Reluctantly I levered myself out of my heavenly repose, threw on a dressing gown and, still dripping from every conceivable location, made my way to the door.
A badly shaven man in clothes apparently unwashed for several millennia stood in front of me, seemingly unmoved by my state of dripping undress.
“Window Cleaner?” was his monosyllabic question. I was tempted to respond with “No, I’m not but if you know of a clean one let me know”. However in the manner of the best of politicians I answered his question with another, “How much do I owe you?” Payment out of the way he sauntered off, but not before meeting his mate and throwing suspicious glances in the direction of my house. To be fair to him I have now got clean windows, in fact now so clean that I need to keep the curtains closed at all times so that no-one can peep in, thus defeating the purpose somewhat.
I tried to return to my bath, but the water was tepid, the bubbles had disappeared and the candles had burned down. The moment was lost and I let the water trickle its way down the drain with what was left of my relaxation time.
Why did I agree to have my windows cleaned?
And then the doorbell rang. I thought about getting out of the bath, then decided against it. This was my moment and nothing should detract from it. The world could wait. A couple of seconds later and the door was rather unceremoniously thumped. Panic skitted across my brain. Could it be a burglar? Surely burglars don’t ring the bell first to ask politely if they can rob your house do they?
Reluctantly I levered myself out of my heavenly repose, threw on a dressing gown and, still dripping from every conceivable location, made my way to the door.
A badly shaven man in clothes apparently unwashed for several millennia stood in front of me, seemingly unmoved by my state of dripping undress.
“Window Cleaner?” was his monosyllabic question. I was tempted to respond with “No, I’m not but if you know of a clean one let me know”. However in the manner of the best of politicians I answered his question with another, “How much do I owe you?” Payment out of the way he sauntered off, but not before meeting his mate and throwing suspicious glances in the direction of my house. To be fair to him I have now got clean windows, in fact now so clean that I need to keep the curtains closed at all times so that no-one can peep in, thus defeating the purpose somewhat.
I tried to return to my bath, but the water was tepid, the bubbles had disappeared and the candles had burned down. The moment was lost and I let the water trickle its way down the drain with what was left of my relaxation time.
Why did I agree to have my windows cleaned?
13 comments:
our window cleaner sends his 10 year old son to collect the cash...he just bellows windae munny at you when you open the door.
It's worse when it's an estate agent with eager buyers...
To answer your question, like any external mood-enhancer it offers a tremendous short-term high, which vanishes almost immediately.
He sounds like a charming lad Moosh
When I sold my last flat I certainly remember the eager estate agents. Sadly, when the buyers saw my humble flat they weren't so eager!
Sadly the short term high of clean windows dissapated rather quickly. Especially after such a meeting with the window cleaner.
we have 2 window cleaners fighting to do our windows. 1 is a rip of cleaner the other is fine. as for relaxing baths, pure bliss!
Two window clearners fighting over the one house? What an excellent position to be in. I hope you can therefore haggle them down to a good price.
Relaxing baths are good, when you can stay in them!
Hello Gwen,thank you for your positive wishes, I shall do my level best to nurture my blog, and thank you for adding me as a link, I'd better start writing something other than being rude about politicians. Re your earlier fact about the Paul McCartney drugs bust, I was born on the day John and Yoko got married.
Tahnks again,
Gari.
I can't remember the last time I had a long soak in the bath. The only time I get to actually submerge myself into soft bubbles is when Amy is having her bath and then the water's much too cold.
I recently took a bath for the first time in years and found it pretty awkward, especially trying to wash my hair. It made me realise why I shower instead.
Hi Gari
I look forward to reading your blog posts. That's interesting about you being born the same day as John and Yoko - almost blogosphere synchronicity.
That's a shame Crystal, hopefully you will be able to have a nice warm bath sometime soon.
Actually Katie, the reason I bath rather than shower is that my shower is pretty awkward to use so having a bath in my house is the easy option.
You need Motherpucker lip gloss. No question. No money required, or so I gather.
Gwenjamin- I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the phrase 'from every conceivable location' in that post, but I'll let it pass.
Next time knocks on the door and says 'Window Cleaner', reply 'Yes I am - that'll be four quid please'- see if he pays.
Failing that, tell him it was your neighbour that procured his service, so technically the contract is with her. Then slam the door in his miserable face.
Where do I get this Motherpucker lip gloss Omega Mum. It sounds like I need some of it to transform myself into a sultry siren. Just as long as I don'd end up like Bad Lindy though!
Valentine - the locations were indeed many and in some cases quite inconceivable but on that subject I shall say no more. I don't want to turn into Bad Lindy (see Omega Mums posts) now do I.
I will certainly try your suggestions and let you know of their success. Of course he may now never return after the vision that greeted him when I opened the door. It may have been just too unpalatable for him.
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