Squeaky Clean
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I detest housework with a vengeance but hate dirt almost as much. I'm by no means houseproud and resent every hour spent cleaning. By the same token, there's nothing to beat the satisfaction of restoring order and hygiene to a sullied and grubby item.
I confess that like so many working women, I was accustomed to enjoying the benefit of a home help. Mister E viewed her as a disruption to his tranquility (well she did sing rather loudly), so when we retired we decided to go mopping alone.
To begin with I honestly couldn't believe how ineffective I was at domestic chores. To my mind, if you are going to do a job then not only is it necessary to achieve the proper result but the process to get there should be efficient and proportionate to the value derived. Needless to say, I seriously struggled.
However, and over time, I have steadily got this cleaning thing down to a fine art, embraced the use of natural chemicals and on occasions confess to deriving job satisfaction from the tasks undertaken at breakneck speed.
I went to school in an era when girls were taught needlework and cookery under the banner of domestic science. That is a complete misnomer and one that I am glad to see has since been dropped. Indeed, and a clear sign of the times, my former homehelp requested a reference for an agency position as a domestic engineer!
Returning to the science for a moment, however: rather than a chemistry lab stocked with bottles of various acids and alkalis together with bunsen burners, petri dishes, test tubes and litmus paper, the domestic science cookery room would have been a far more useful venue. Instead I have had to wait until retirement to compare the efficacy of branded products with natural compounds.
When we began the boat restoration project, I truly discovered the power of white vinegar which I had already begun to use to clean windows in the home. Yes, your house smells like a fish and chip shop momentarily but the scent dissipates, honestly. Then there was the citric acid experiment which vies with vinegar for descaling and disinfecting. I've even used the remains of a squeezed lemon to wipe around my kitchen sink although I confess the pips can be a nuisance! Two weeks back when sorting the rented property for reletting, I discovered bicarbonate of soda (baking soda). I have used it regularly for stain removal from fabrics but now know just how potent it is when it comes to dissolving grease.
Obviously I've had plenty of opportunity to experiment during our 3+ month sojourn at home which transcended the annual spring cleaning season. So much so, that I have moved the experiment outside. When that long dry spell emptied my water butts, vinegar helped me clean them. I did such a good job that Mister E remarked on how they sparkled and then gave an official (and totally impartial) verdict: I have the cleanest butt in the village!
Vinegar, salt and washing up liquid have helped me keep weeds under control in my organic vegetable patch but I am now celebrating my latest experiment: washing brussels sprouts! To protect them from egg-laying butterflies, I had been growing them under enviromesh. Unfortunately some unwanted species of aphid still managed to find its way in and as the plants have now reached a height where they could take no more covering, I removed the mesh and set to spraying them with a solution of water and dish-washing liquid. They looked as if they were enjoying a foam party when I had finished and with the rain that night, I had visions of launderettes and leaking washing machines. The next morning there was not a soap sud in sight and instead, and this is now my own unbiased judgement, I have the cleanest sprouts for miles. Unfortunately the local cabbage white butterfly population, deprived of my other brassicas which are still being reared under mesh, has made a beeline for them and it looks as though the foam spray will have to become a regular occurence.
If anyone out there has any au naturel hints or tips, I'm more than happy to try them out. Education and experimentation is the only way so far that I've found to derive any kind of pleasure from domestic drudgery. Who needs a classroom for learning?
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