the cleaning lady
I think I've mentioned before that cleaner G has left our employ and gone to Miami (like you do). In the months since we've muddled along with greater and lesser success. This weekend I devoted myself to cleaning like a professional - every surface in the kitchen (and there are a lot) was scrubbed clean, every item out on display (and there are many) was put in the dishwasher (thank goodness for dishwashers). Then on Sunday it was time for the weekly pilgrimage to the Farmers' Market in Marylebone. Organic food bought from the people that grew it - the highlight of my week, when for just a moment I really am buying into the dream, then the walk home with heavy rucksacks and the slow realisation that another week has passed and the dream is no nearer.
We had a team meeting this morning and in the five minutes before it got started I was chatting to a couple of the others. A said: 'My friend has just told me she's pregnant for the second time.' F said: 'All I hear about from my friends is engagements and housewarming parties.' And then after some thought I said: 'But those things just don't seem possible if you live and work in London. I have friends who are married with kids and a mortgage, but none of them live in London.' 'Hmm,' we all said sadly and looked mournfully at each other while drifting off into our own private reveries.