cleaning lady

'the doctor told me i'll never vac again.'

'nan, that's awesome.'

'it's terrible!' she says. her eyes are filling with water. 'i should be able to dust and that, but nothing, you know ... up high or down low. nothing heavy. the first time the cleaner came in, oh i cried! but she's getting better. it's a new house to her and that.'

before she put her shoulder out, nan would get up at 4am and do the ironing. wipe the skirting boards, dust the mantle piece. make the corners uncomfortable for spiders. put the washing on. bleach the bathroom. run the vac over spotless floors. when the sun came up she'd walk to ivanhoe and clean for other people, back in the day.

no wonder she makes short work of a box of liptons.

'so how you keeping busy if you can't clean, nan?' it's noisy at the venuto club. she's waiting for her kingfish fillet, me for the rib eye. she doesn't hear me, or just doesn't answer.