Our landlady has pre-paid a window cleaner to do our windows. So he just turns up and gets on with it. The first thing we know
about his presence is a scraping sound on the window that wakes you up and
gives you the fright of your life. If, in a dozy and confused state, you open
the curtain’s to find out which particular assailant is trying to break in
through the window, you are liable to get a nice jet of water and possibly soap
suds squirted through the open window at you. He doesn’t worry if the windows
are open. Water and soap comes flooding in over the curtains and any other
household objects that happen to be located within splashing distance. The most
impressive aspect of the ‘clean’ is that he has no ladders, instead favouring
giant wobbly extendable tubes that reach my window on the second floor. Which
means of course that he doesn’t get to use the windscreen wiper implement, and
therefore all enjoyment of the process is gone.
Greetings Interweb! I have a strange mind. No stranger than anyone else’s, I suspect, but strange enough to entertain me with musings from time to time. I wrote some of these musings down, and they appeared to entertain a few other folks too. So I thought there should be somewhere for them to hang out together. A book seemed woefully indulgent; a diary too personal. So the blog was born. It seemed cheaper than getting proper therapy.
Friday 8 August 2014
Window Cleaning
Does anyone else find it strangely satisfying watching a
window cleaner at work? There’s something hugely efficient about the way they
clean the soapiness off the window using an implement that looks a bit like an
upmarket windscreen wiper. I always wanted one of those tools, and suspect that
I would have been considerably more inclined towards cleaning if I had one.
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Chris has an electric widow wiper that sucks up the water as it wipes. Still leaves streaks though......
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