At 9:00 when the children have been taken to school, I tackle the carpet, post puppy accident. It’s a noisy machine but I’m quite content moving backwards and forwards, still in my dressing gown, unwashed and not dressed. As I clean, I debate whether to hide in the garage or hide in the garden. She yells at me over the din, whilst Nonna reads the subtitles on the BBC world news, “hey Mum!”
I still startle, as much from the bomb blasts from the telly, “yes dear?”
“Have you walked Thatcher yet?” I try not to glare, but open my arms to draw attention to my déshabillez.
“Ah…….did you give Thatcher his tranquilizers yet?"
"I'll do it in a minute."
"Did you know Thatcher’s on the sofa in the other room?” Although I am renowned for my eyes in the back of my head, I have get to advance to x-ray vision. "I just thought you'd want to know. Shall I take him off for you?" Before I am able to answer, Nonna pipes up, “wot is dat ting den?” I look from telly to Nonna and back again, mining for clues. Her arm shakes towards the machine.
“Oh it’s a carpet cleaner.”
“Ooo dats nice. Wot you do?”
“Clean the carpet.”
“Why you clean it when it is already clean den?”
“Dog accident.”
“Does it clean udder tings?”
“Just carpets.”
“Ooo dats a shame.”
I pause as I think. It’s tempting to ask but I’m not sure that I really want to know. “Why is it a shame?”
“Well……coz if it cleaned udder tings den it could clean the dog vomit on the sofa…….next door.”
I shall be hiding in the garage out of the rain, with stolen tranquilizers, just in case anyone needs me, I'll be under the car.
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