and perform cleaning duties, proved to be more difficult than anticipated. I've never seen a baby crawl so fast. I was taken completely by surprise. Evasive action was required. The table lamp went crashing to the floor as the trailing flex became ensnared by the vacuum cleaner. The commotion, not to mention the expletives, brought the startled mother rushing to the scene. Despite protestations that the lamp rather than the baby was the preferred casualty, she wasn't convinced. I suppose he must be about five years old by now. I probably wouldn't recognise him.

Domestic cleaning as a career cho

I clean other peoples homes for a living and, believe it or not, it can be fun. With any job that involves the public, no two days are ever the same. Every home has a story to tell and every home holds its secrets. It's rather like going from one film set to another, all that differs are the stage directions and the props. Casting problems occasionally rear their ugly heads but as a true professional I rise to any challenge. Having said that -you can't please all of the people all of the time.

I remember the time I declined the role of scullery maid. It led to my dismissal. The chores didn't upset me, but no way was I going to entrance and and exit by the rear of the house, or address my employer formally- Mrs Highman-come on it's 2007 suburbia, not Desperate Housewives and certainly not Gosford Park. Anyway, the salary was not commensurate with the oscar winning performance that was expected. I was glad to bid a none too fond, farewell. Exiting, of course, through the back door.

Call me temperamental if you must but I have to concede that bedroom scenes are not my forte either. I play the role of unwitting voyeur, albeit through gritted teeth. Sadly it goes with the territory. Nevertheless a little discretion would not go amiss. You'd be amazed at the number of couples that procure their maid to add a little spice to a waning sex life. Of course the role is strictly perfunctory: walk in, act surprised, mutter insincere apologies, then walk out again. It does become quite tedious. So many rehearsals...

You don't have to be an expert in Freudian philosophy to realise that a situation that initially presents itself as sexually oriented, is in fact actually about control. I was called upon to clean the upper framework of a four poster bed. A bed occupied by a rather dubious vertically-challenged gentleman, who lay atop rather grubby looking silken bedsheets. With a mixture of nausea and mirth I straddled his supine, form intent on removing every speck of dust from the rather beautiful piece of furniture. moving between the wooden towers with the grace of a ballerina. Unfortunately I slipped. Well accidents do happen. He was in pain for weeks, poor soul. I heard much later, however, that he made a full recovery.

I failed miserably in the role of Mary Poppins. Then again I don't possess magic powers. Required to keep a watchful eye on a baby, and perform cleaning duties, proved to be more difficult than anticipated. I've never seen a baby crawl so fast. I was taken completely by surprise. Evasive action was required. The table lamp went crashing to the floor as the trailing flex became ensnared by the vacuum cleaner. The commotion, not to mention the expletives, brought the startled mother rushing to the scene. Despite protestations that the lamp rather than the baby was the preferred casualty, she wasn't convinced. I suppose he must be about five years old by now. I probably wouldn't recognise him.

Domestic cleaning as a career cho

me, but no way was I going to entrance and and exit by the rear of the house, or address my employer formally- Mrs Highman-come on it's 2007 suburbia, not Desperate Housewives and certainly not Gosford Park. Anyway, the salary was not commensurate with the oscar winning performance that was expected. I was glad to bid a none too fond, farewell. Exiting, of course, through the back door.

Call me temperamental if you must but I have to concede that bedroom scenes are not my forte either. I play the role of unwitting voyeur, albeit through gritted teeth. Sadly it goes with the territory. Nevertheless a little discretion would not go amiss. You'd be amazed at the number of couples that procure their maid to add a little spice to a waning sex life. Of course the role is strictly perfunctory: walk in, act surprised, mutter insincere apologies, then walk out again. It does become quite tedious. So many rehearsals...

You don't have to be an expert in Freudian philosophy to realise that a situation that initially presents itself as sexually oriented, is in fact actually about control. I was called upon to clean the upper framework of a four poster bed. A bed occupied by a rather dubious vertically-challenged gentleman, who lay atop rather grubby looking silken bedsheets. With a mixture of nausea and mirth I straddled his supine, form intent on removing every speck of dust from the rather beautiful piece of furniture. moving between the wooden towers with the grace of a ballerina. Unfortunately I slipped. Well accidents do happen. He was in pain for weeks, poor soul. I heard much later, however, that he made a full recovery.

I failed miserably in the role of Mary Poppins. Then again I don't possess magic powers. Required to keep a watchful eye on a baby, and perform cleaning duties, proved to be more difficult than anticipated. I've never seen a baby crawl so fast. I was taken completely by surprise. Evasive action was required. The table lamp went crashing to the floor as the trailing flex became ensnared by the vacuum cleaner. The commotion, not to mention the expletives, brought the startled mother rushing to the scene. Despite protestations that the lamp rather than the baby was the preferred casualty, she wasn't convinced. I suppose he must be about five years old by now. I probably wouldn't recognise him.

Domestic cleaning as a career cho

tory. Nevertheless a little discretion would not go amiss. You'd be amazed at the number of couples that procure their maid to add a little spice to a waning sex life. Of course the role is strictly perfunctory: walk in, act surprised, mutter insincere apologies, then walk out again. It does become quite tedious. So many rehearsals...

You don't have to be an expert in Freudian philosophy to realise that a situation that initially presents itself as sexually oriented, is in fact actually about control. I was called upon to clean the upper framework of a four poster bed. A bed occupied by a rather dubious vertically-challenged gentleman, who lay atop rather grubby looking silken bedsheets. With a mixture of nausea and mirth I straddled his supine, form intent on removing every speck of dust from the rather beautiful piece of furniture. moving between the wooden towers with the grace of a ballerina. Unfortunately I slipped. Well accidents do happen. He was in pain for weeks, poor soul. I heard much later, however, that he made a full recovery.

I failed miserably in the role of Mary Poppins. Then again I don't possess magic powers. Required to keep a watchful eye on a baby, and perform cleaning duties, proved to be more difficult than anticipated. I've never seen a baby crawl so fast. I was taken completely by surprise. Evasive action was required. The table lamp went crashing to the floor as the trailing flex became ensnared by the vacuum cleaner. The commotion, not to mention the expletives, brought the startled mother rushing to the scene. Despite protestations that the lamp rather than the baby was the preferred casualty, she wasn't convinced. I suppose he must be about five years old by now. I probably wouldn't recognise him.

Domestic cleaning as a career cho

er dubious vertically-challenged gentleman, who lay atop rather grubby looking silken bedsheets. With a mixture of nausea and mirth I straddled his supine, form intent on removing every speck of dust from the rather beautiful piece of furniture. moving between the wooden towers with the grace of a ballerina. Unfortunately I slipped. Well accidents do happen. He was in pain for weeks, poor soul. I heard much later, however, that he made a full recovery.

I failed miserably in the role of Mary Poppins. Then again I don't possess magic powers. Required to keep a watchful eye on a baby, and perform cleaning duties, proved to be more difficult than anticipated. I've never seen a baby crawl so fast. I was taken completely by surprise. Evasive action was required. The table lamp went crashing to the floor as the trailing flex became ensnared by the vacuum cleaner. The commotion, not to mention the expletives, brought the startled mother rushing to the scene. Despite protestations that the lamp rather than the baby was the preferred casualty, she wasn't convinced. I suppose he must be about five years old by now. I probably wouldn't recognise him.

Domestic cleaning as a career cho

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