10August1997

10 August 1998
My dear folks,

I wonder how much detail you can tolerate about the nitty gritty of life in London. Trouble is that it’s hard to convey in brief. For example, take yesterday a.m. My fixer was due around at 0930 to install new locks in two front doors, ours & that of another house up the road. They are locks that can be opened from inside without a key, required of landlords to enable tenants to escape more easily in the event of fire. I had warned the residents of the 7 flats involved that I would leave the new keys in their pigeonholes just as soon as I got them.

Come 1000, there was no sign of my fixer or the new locks & keys he was meant to be bringing with him. A phone call established that he was waiting outside the locksmith where he'd ordered everything. It was still closed for reasons he didn’t understand. So I printed out two notices explaining the situation, stuck one on our front door & trotted around to the other house with the second.

The fixer turned up with the new locks at 1130. I promptly grabbed the keys off him, distributed those intended for us & trotted around to the other house a second time to stick the keys in the pigeon holes there & remove the notice. When I got back I gathered from the fixer that the locksmith had gone on holiday & his staff had awarded themselves a late opening. Hence his wait. He was not pleased. Nor was I.

At 1200, a contractor phoned to ask if he could erect scaffolding at the other house on Tuesday prior to decorating it. That would be fine. I trotted around to the other house a third time to stick another notice on the door. Scaffolding offers a short cut to burglars & residents appreciate advance warning of its arrival.

That was Saturday a.m. At least, that was as much of Saturday a.m. as I think you could bear. Saturday p.m. I cleaned the windows. Why is such domestic detail worthy of inclusion in a letter going to the furthest corners of the world? If you wonder, it’s because you’ve never tried to clean elderly sash windows 4 floors up. I’d even purchased a special window cleaning kit, suds applicator & squeegee. Forget about removing the flower boxes & all that crap. The problem is that the windows slide up & down behind one another & there’s no way you can get at them properly unless you’re actually outside. Trouble is that outside is hazardous in the extreme.

I tried leaning out of one window & first soaping & then squeegeeing the adjacent window. It’s a total waste of time. It just leaves a trail of stains & smears across the glass, never mind great spatters of dirty water over everything. As I say, you wonder how much detail you can decently put in a family letter that’s not heading straight for the delete key. Let me say only that the windows are all sparkling clean, inside & out. It took me 90 mins. I had to follow the squeegee with a duster & window cleaning fluid. The high level acrobatics would have tested a circus performer who’d trained in the Himalayas. I have a new respect for window cleaners. Meanwhile, anyone who looks up cannot fail to be impressed by the shine. If only it would last!

The rest of the day went on computing & correspondence, quite usefully. I got all kinds of files up to date & backed up. Also watched a documentary on Indira Gandhi, one of a series in the lead up to the 50th anniversary of Indian independence. Very good too. In-between times I wiped myself down with the wet cloth hanging over the bucket in front of the fan. It continues hot & muggy. My first act in the morning is to bring the fan downstairs, my last at night to take it up again. I had a luke-cold shower last night that didn’t even cause me to draw breath. Mum tells me that Calgary has been just as enervating. August is not my favourite month.
Enough unto to the hour

Blessings
T