Mrs Mop in Millport

I set off for Millport in high spirits. Not only was I by myself for five glorious days, but I privately quite enjoy spring cleaning, and that was my mission . Clean carpets, wash curtains, tidy cupboards.. I sat on the train to Largs and made myself a long list as I ate my cheese and tomato roll. I started to wonder if I’d be able to fit it all in in five days.
The weather was fantastic, clear and sunny if very cold. I wasn’t sure it was exactly good drying weather, but I was going to try. I also promised myself some long walks on the beach, at least every day.
First to do, I decided was to shampoo the carpets. Last year I bought a machine- it spits water out into the carpet and then sooks it up. Well. That’s the theory.
Several passes over the carpet revealed that while there was plenty of solution going into the carpet, it didn’t exactly seem to be sooking it up very well.After a bit I tried standing on the front of the machine. Aha! result. Lots of dirty water gurgled into the collection chamber in a satisfying way . Boy, that carpet was mucky. However, once standing on the machine at the front, I realised I couldn’t push it from the other side. Obviously. I tried jumping from the front to the back, then I tried pushing the machine down with my hands and sort of pushing it along…Sandra from next door came to watch,and brought me a well earned cup of tea. We agreed that it was basically a design fault- it just doesn’t make enough contact with the carpet to sook it up properly. Och well, I thought, it’ll dry out – I’ve got the storage heaters on at full blast..
George St also needed some attention, the kitchen was finally finished and I was beside myself with excitement at the thought of getting some tidying up in there too. While I was waiting for the carpets to dry, I thought I would trot along to George st.
Everything looked fine. It looked better than fine. At last I had a sink, a tap, a wee two ring hob, and some kitchen cupboards… Hang on, I thought to myself, something funny going on with the sink…ah. It’s not actually connected up to the waste pipe. Ah. It’s not going to fit into the waste pipe…
On the way back to Crawford st- and I have to point out that I spend a lot of time scuttling between flats, and it’s a full ten minutes walk- I can’t think why I’m still overweight..anyway. I digress. I phoned Eddie the plumber- who -is -also- a tiler. Eddie assured me that he just needed a wee thing, to make Ikea sized pipes fit onto Millport sized pipes. so I decided I’d done enough for day one, and went for my walk along to Farland Point. By the time I was nearly home, the sun was setting and the air could have sliced you in two- there was little wind, but it was going to be a bitterly cold night. Wee Cumbrae and Arran skulked on the horizon in a sort of violet blue haze, as the “last beams leaned low” and the sky looked as though a toddler had attacked it with an orange highlighter.
I’d fully intended to have a nice healthy baked potato for my tea, but lo and behold the chippie was open as I went past.. and well, you know how it is.
Then I settled down to watch Lark Rise To Candleford without any interruptions. bliss.
The next few days passed in a blur of cupboard cleaning, curtain washing, underbed tidying and chasing Eddie the plumber to finish off the sink. I also put more money on the electricity card, and tried to track down who had keys for George St- half the island seemed to have been given one, but everybody was using the electricians…
The carpet, meanwhile, remained stubbornly damp. I put all the heaters on, including the tiny fan heater in the living room, and settled down to watch the telly on Tues night, when all of a sudden my mobile rang. I only get a reception if I press myself and the phone right up to the lobby door and shout, or else go and stand outside. I’d already done just that when Mhairi had phoned earlier to discuss the structure of her essay- and ten minutes standing outside shivering and jogging gently while discussing Rennie Mackintosh and his contribution to the Arts And Crafts movement was enough for me, so I stood with my back to the living room, pressed up to the door while chatting to my friend Jane. As I hung up I realised the fan heater had stopped.
My blanket had fallen on top of the fan heater. It had apparently made a very warm pocket of air in front of the heater. It had melted the carpet a wee bit.
Oops. I went to bed wondering how I could fix that little faux pas…
In the end I decided to cut out the tiny bit of carpet and replace it with a bit of spare, and to be honest, you hardly notice it, especially if you squint a bit, take off your bifocals ,and have some wine. Or so I discovered the next evening. People have since called me a fool ,pointing out that the insurance would probably cover it, but I don’t fancy having a different carpet on the living room and hall, or having my premiums double over night. Basically I distrust insurance companies- I never seem covered for what I need…
By Wed morning the beautiful weather had gone and I had to return to Falkirk in horizontal needles of snow, which stung my face and blew my hood down every twenty seconds. I paused in Nardinis for a coffee to meet the joiner’s wife so that I could give her a key(rescued from Eddie) so the windows and joinery work can be completed.
Then I carried on home feeling damp and chilly. As I passed through Glasgow, I was persuaded to take part in a short survey on my facial moisturiser- free tea or coffee, the lady explained, and £5 for my trouble- just in this building behind me?
The offer of a cuppa was too good to miss. I was sceptical about the fiver- I thought it might be a voucher- but I climbed up the stairs and lodged myself in front of a computer. Forty five minutes later, I had been served a coffee so strong I was slightly hyper ventilating, and was still wading through questions like :
“If Oil of Olay was your friend, what personality would it have?”
I ended up just randomly giving answers- the only thing I could think of was that Oil Of Olay and Ponds seem quite old lady things- but really I just wanted to go home and dry out.Finally I got out and onto the Falkirk train, clutching my £5 to my chest, wondering if the kitties had missed me.
They had, so had Jack, and so had Chris- Jamie had hardly noticed my absence I think as he is spending huge amounts of time at other people’s houses just now, but he thoughtfully put the kettle on for me on my return.
Really hope the weather improves soon. I’m totally fed up with snow and sub zero temperatures. I am fed up with eight layers of clothes, fleeces, walking boots. I long to get out my tee shirts, little cardigans, sandals….
As Kc said- Spring. When will it?