Having failed miserably as a domestic goddess, my most despised chore is cleaning the oven. I’d rather dig holes in wet clay than tackle the stalactites that grow in the murky darkness of our over-used cooking device.
Mustering up midwinter avoidance tactics I decided to launch into an early spring clean. Who ever said tidy-ups were restricted to the seasons anyway?
The ghastly oven loomed, but I shot upstairs to the master bedroom and attacked my half of a cluttered and neglected wardrobe.
Trinny and Susannah would be appalled by my stockpile of shabby shirts and comfy cardies. There lies the problem of too much storage space — it’s far too tempting to hold onto stuff that should have succumbed to the pink rag bags years ago.
Wardrobe systems are all very well, but for those with poor housekeeping skills, the abundance of shelving has the potential to turn it into a closeted Frankenstein.
The top shelf was first on the agenda, with handbags and hats that constantly fall down or get tangled up with coat hangers. I blame my father for encouraging me to keep old stuff that is worn out or damaged. The best intentions to repair these bits of junk never develop into fruition, although they have operated as highly effective dust catchers.
Progressing down the shelves demanded staunch action. T-shirts with long-perished lycra that sagged in spots where I don’t, were demoted to the rank of cleaning cloths.
The woolly jumper with the hole in the sleeve is gone and the near-new dressing gown that was the wrong size will now keep someone else warm.
A long forgotten formal dress, winter top and a book hidden away for a Christmas gift were unearthed and will now be put to good use. Coat hangers are an endangered commodity in our house, but once I biffed out jackets and pants that hadn’t seen the streets in years, the reclaimed plastic and wire triangles could be reclassified to threatened status.
The floor needed addressing, although little can be done when there is more footwear than shoe storage devices. However, sad old slippers and shoeboxes that were hidden to prevent an unsympathetic husband from learning about purchases, were all discarded.
Task completed — it was time to stand back and bask in the glory. The oven was still dirty, but I had found a bottle of wine tucked away at the back of a shelf and after a rewarding glass I wasn’t remotely bothered. The gunk will still be there tomorrow.
