Luxury

A friend once said: “Luxury is having a cleaner and fresh flowers every week.” I aim for the flowers. The GR’s opinion of cleaners is very low, a morbid fear infact. When we are on holiday, our enjoyment can quite often be marred by trying to not be in the room when the cleaning woman arrives, hovering outside the room for the cleaning woman to finish, or rushing around trying to get out of the room before the cleaning woman arrives. So having one at home – no. We’re all Virgos anyway, so it never gets too bad. Erbie hung in there for an extra day so he could join the club or we could have become intolerable. I think The GR gets it from his father, they recite ‘cleaning woman, cleaning woman, cleaning woman’, in a worrying fashion. It’s a quote from a Steve Matrin film originally I believe. I shall enquire, and update. They also mock people who clean up before a cleaner arrives. I find most men don’t understand the concept that cleaners clean not tidy; apart from Nico’s husband who is a hairdresser and of questionable sexuality – I digress, anyway here are the flowers from last week.