Bad Hoover
When
Girl was a tiny blonde thing, she would push the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner
along the carpet and say ‘hoove, hoove, hoove,’ until the game of housework was
trumped by a walk to the beach. Entertaining.
I
have spent time without a vacuum cleaner, as I have lived without most
appliances at some point. Unintentional yet educational: time spent sweeping
carpets, thrashing rugs, boiling a pan for a cup of tea, cooking on an open
fire, cooking in a woodburner, treading washing in the bath, making shadow
puppet improvisations. (The washing machine, the internet and a hoover, if we must live with carpets,
are the things I choose to keep most. In that order.)
Yesterday,
after viewing the front room carpet, I trundled our hoover out. It is a small
machine and for reasons of compactness the hose attaches to the body of it at a
90 degree angle. This bend gets blocked. To unblock, brave fingers must venture
in, unsighted, and seize a clump of, hopefully, Dog hair. Yes, disgusting. I
perform this procedure outdoors, sat on the doorstep, flailing a hose over the
bin. Yes, it is mostly Dog hair. Also there’s that bit of courgette I dropped
whilst piling the slow cooker (good machine) with veg and meat. Which is when
it occurs to me that there’s something healthy about being close to dirt. One
feels more connected, more responsible, more appreciative. I have revolting
dust on my nose and one day, maybe, I will have a better machine: meanwhile
this bad hoover helps me bond with my home.
Comments
Sending you my love across the sea.
Suze- well travelled love received :-)
Susan- indeed the teenage years were not much use around the house- still kept the amusement levels up though!
I, too, have lived without appliances. Hoovers are handy helpers.