When I’m Cleaning Windows. (Not).
Strange scrabbling noises at the front of the house this morning prompted me to stick my head out of the bedroom window.
A young man with a purposeful expression was climbing up a ladder.
Now a purposeful young man on a ladder may sound promising but I hadn’t ordered one and as he was clutching a bucket and a squeegee, there was no mistaking his intention. Some tactful questioning revealed that he was, as I suspected, a window cleaner at the wrong house.
‘Uhh, I had a few beers last night, don’t really know what I’m doing this morning,’ he said, switching his direction to reverse and dropping his squeegee on his descent. Continue reading