And the Aggy goes to ...

I was listening to Katie Melua while ironing today (this is how I spend my holiday: ironing and sewing, two of my least favourite in the whole world things).

I couldn't help wondering why he only took her halfway up the Hindu Kush. Is it like Snowdon, I wonder. We've never got to the top because it always rains. It doesn't have quite the same ring to it though: halfway up the Snowdon pass.

Throwing myself into the singing, I remarked to Harvey that I wished I could sing. 'So do I,' he said.
'I wonder if I'll be able to sing in heaven. It says that we'll be singing and praising God; he wouldn't want out-of-tune singing, would he?'
'No.'
'I don't suppose there'll be ironing in heaven either.'
'What about all those angel robes?'
'They'll probably be non-iron. Proper non-iron not like the ones you buy in the shops that say they're non-iron but only are if you don't mind creased shirts. Which Husband does.'

Perhaps we get to have jobs in heaven but they're things we're good at. So I would get a job ... making cheesecake (that is the only thing that comes to mind at the moment that I can honestly claim to be good at). Head angelic cheesecake maker. Only it's Delia's recipe so I would probably have to be Deputy-head angelic cheesecake maker.

It's strange the things you think about when ironing.
'It's strange the things you think about when ironing,' Harvey said. I didn't realise I had said it out loud.

But at least I solved the mystery of the pantry puddle. I don't know if I should tell you about this; you might be too shocked. Ah well.

Last night I spotted a strange puddle in the pantry. I assumed someone had spilt coke and not mopped it up (although no-one pours coke in there).

An aside: what does cocaine actually do for its users? They use it a lot in The Line of Beauty but it doesn't appear to have any obvious effect. It certainly doesn't make them jolly.

Back to the pantry. I cleaned the floor and thought no more about it. Until I got up this morning and found another puddle, this time coming from under the vegetable rack. Cautious investigation led to the discovery of some dissolved rhubarb. There's no other way to describe it.

I had a thorough sort-out, cleaned the racks and floor, and my pantry is fresh again. Now I just have to decide what to do with three shooting leeks, two mouldy carrots and four sprouting potatoes.

Which reminds me about my washing machine. I haven't remembered to buy soda crystals yet but, in the meantime, I have removed the filter and discovered, as well as a load of gungy stuff, a rusty two-pence piece, part of a zip, two buttons and three stones. Clearing this out seems to have got rid of the smell. I don't want to speak too soon and I will do the soda stuff as well but it's looking good.

And the Aggy for total and absolute failure in the cleanliness and hygiene department goes to ... ME!

But, in my defence, let me say that I've raised three children and a dog and they've all survived. More than that, they have hardy tums. When bugs went round the school like a dose of salts, and their friends were throwing up with abandon, my children remained unscathed.

There's a lot to be said for eating a bit of dirt.