Most of you know that I love cooking and do not mind how long I spend in the kitchen perfecting some new recipe or adding special touches to an old one. That is, however, the only pleasure I derive from domestic tasks and when it comes to housework I have to admit that it gives me no satisfaction whatsoever to scrub a bath till it sparkles, polish some object till I can see my face in it or sweep my balconies till they are so pristine that you could eat your meals off their tiles. Housework, then, gets done when visitors are due or when things get on my nerves enough and even then, it is likely to be of the “lick and promise” variety. [I talk to my floors, you know, telling them firmly, “That’s all the cleaning you’re having today” lest they get their hopes up.] I’ve got better things to do!
Recently, though, I’ve been unable physically to do even my perfunctory mopping or dusting [the latter activity consisting of dusting till I get bored – about 5 minutes - at which point I spray the Pronto polish around in the hope that its smell will fool people into thinking I’ve been thorough]. I confess I had started to feel guilty about the situation , so my friends found me that rare Italian treasure – a nice, reliable cleaning lady.
Well, there were 2 nice, reliable cleaning ladies on the first occasion, as when Rosa [the “boss” of the pair] asked me if the state of the place warranted her bringing her sister-in-law to help, I had to answer in the affirmative. So along they came, at 8 am one morning [the crack of dawn to me but quite late to them] and they began by inspecting my cleaning equipment. Irma had warned me: “No Italian woman will be able to clean without a Vileda-type mop and bucket” [she meant a bucket with one of those draining contraptions over it] and I should have listened, but I figured that I already had a mop of some sort and 2 buckets, so what was the difference? I soon found out, as both ladies explained at length their need to go into battle armed with not 1, but 2 Vileda mops and a drainer-bucket. Then they cast experienced eyes over my array of cleaning products – floor cleaner, wood cleaner, glass cleaner, bathroom cleaner, bleach and hob cleaner – and made a list of about half a dozen more essential items that I didn’t even know you could get. Finally my collection of cloths – all bought on impulse at the supermarket on days of good intentions – was examined and this, at least, passed muster. Linda, who was here, gamely dashed over to the supermarket to buy all the necessities and came back laden with these and a receipt for 33 euros. Now, I will spend 33 euros on a mascara or lipstick without turning a hair but 33 euros on cleaning materials??! Oh, well, there’s a first time for everything!
At last the 2 intrepid ladies started work and my goodness, how they worked, for 6 solid hours, without stopping for a break or even refreshments! I could only look on, stunned, as they worked miracles on floors, balconies, shutters and glass doors, cleaning nooks and crannies that I didn’t realise existed. The floors were mopped over not once, but 6 times, reader and I feared the tiles would crumble from the shock!
Italians believe in damp dusting and I watched – I was going to say “electrified” – as they passed damp cloths over plugged-in electrical appliances, reminding myself that it would be all right as they did this every day. I did, however, draw the line at the idea of a wet cloth going over my books! [I’m not houseproud as you will have gathered but I am fanatical about the state of my books and the order they are kept in.]
At the end of the 6 hours the ladies declared that they would need another whole day to “finish” [(Italian perfectionism] so 2 days later they were back and we went through the whole performance again.
Since then, dear Rosa has agreed to come once a week, for 4 hours and what a marvel she is: The moment she arrives, all windows and doors are flung open, whatever the weather and Simi watches in consternation as her main bed [in the bedroom] secondary bed [here in the study] and floor cushion [in the lounge] are unceremoniously dragged onto the balconies and her toys placed with several thuds on the dining table. Every item of soft furnishing in sight is thrown into the washing machine and then Rosa sets to, ironing, dusting, washing floors – whatever I ask – and what pride she takes in her work! Last week she dusted my 912 ornaments and put them all back precisely in their places and in the bathroom, without being asked, she arranged all my make-up samples in categories. She really does sort me out and I now look forward to “Rosa days”. I have come to regard her as a friend – another bright spot during a difficult period and an Italian treasure, indeed.
