Life-hacks for cleaning in the newspapers, beautifully lettered cleaning schedules for our journals on Pinterest and bloody ‘celebrities’ (most of whom are younger than my best comfy bra) telling me how to clean my kitchen.
What has the BF chosen? What do I get to watch whilst I’m eating the dinner that I have lovingly prepared? Fucking Monty Don. It’s 8 o’clock at night and I get to watch another bloody gardening programme starring fucking Monty Don. I almost choked on my gin.
When the pandemic hit in March 2020, the older generation were suddenly plunged into a whole new world of technology. We don’t know about you, but at SJB our experience of this was both terrifying and entertaining. All of a sudden, there we were trying to explain alien concepts such as Zoom, internet banking and click-and-collect.
I admit that when I arrived and she came to the door with sanitiser in one hand and a temperature gun in the other, I did burst out laughing and proclaim ‘Fuck me Helen! You look like a stormtrooper!”.
The annoying thing is that the perfection I was seeking, that so many of us seek every day, it didn’t exist. There is no ‘perfect’. Everyone is out there every day working their arses off to achieve this unattainable, non-existent concept. Every single one of us has our own aspirations, our own ideas of what is ‘perfect’. Most of the time we’re not even happy.
Let’s face it, if we did have a go at a trim ourselves, who can honestly say they got tooled up? More likely, it was a quick grab of anything we could lay our hands on that would restore vision – kitchen scissors, nail scissors or even the ones we only use Christmas and birthdays for cutting wrapping paper.
We aren’t all queuing up to be the next contestants on Sewing Bee (although the thought of spending time with Patrick Grant is certainly appealing), even if we do know our bobbins from our presser foot.