This was the sad day of the holiday – the day when one’s mind is inevitably fixed on packing (will it all go in ?) and cleaning up. We had bought so many books (we kid ourselves that we are slowly getting rid of books !) that it was something of a puzzle to know where to put them all. But somehow they went in.
My other worry was the dismantling and cleaning of the wood burning stove. I have dealt with many domestic boilers, fire grates, stoves and what not in the past – but that was the problem – it WAS all in the past. However this thing came apart quite readily, the ash pan came out without spillages, and was easy to empty into the ash bin provided, and the vacuum cleaner speedily dealt with the remaining dust. Thus emboldened I tried the vacuum out on the floor too. But pushing and pulling a thing like that soon tires me out these days – well that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
Whilst we were doing all this a man appeared in the garden, saw us and came to the door to apologise – quite unnecessarily – and then proceed to mow the grass and titivate the borders with a sort of three pronged hoe.
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