FILTH!

One of the things about old people especially those with dodgy eyesight is that standards of housekeeping become somewhat interesting.  It just can't be helped.

I’d been previously warned about nasty niffs pervading the loo but it wasn’t until nature called that I realised how bad these really were. Pong does not begin to describe what smelt like one of those darkened alleyways that every drunk uses as a public latrine.

Too proud/stubborn/miserly (delete as appropriate) to hire an occasional cleaner because let's face it there’s no way an 87 year-old half-blind biddy is going to get on her hands and knees to scrub the floor or anything else then it was left to yours truly to get stuck in with heavy duty bleach and brush.

Double gloved, I approached the offending bog with bleach bottle in one hand, toilet brush in the other poised like a matador sliding cautiously towards a panting bull preparing to thrust in for the kill. Ole. If you conquer this smelly beast, you may get an ear and a tail!

I swear those grubby ceramic wall tiles had not been cleaned since the Moors were expelled from Granada by the Catholic Kings all those centuries ago. And the floor – don’t get me started on that one! Chicken coops are probably cleaner.

Job done. Breathe in that smell of freshness. Check out the gleaming tiles, taps and toilet. Worthy of one of those Flash adverts on the telly.  Brilliant.

Feet up.  Time for a well-earned San Miguel only now I’ve got a taste for it, maybe I’ll tackle the kitchen floor tomorrow.