The thing about houses

Old houses, new houses, big houses, small houses. Furnished in Ikea, furnished from Jenners. Cleaner, ironer, gardener, window cleaner.

It is all such a worry when you meet a potential new pal in this housewife world. We are (albeit wrongly), judged by our houses as it is our work place.

I love the mess our house gets into. I can't help but be messy. I was never given that "control freak" mothering button which helps maintain a tidy home. If we paint, we sure do paint and it is everywhere, same for cooking, cleaning, washing. It is never tidy, it is never clean. But children can play in the happiness of knowing that this house is not going to be trashed (although beware the child who paws the television - I fear these flat screens falling on a child...)

But then I go to other peoples houses and marvel at just how white their skirting boards are (mine are brown - noooooooooooooooooo there are dark wood brown!!), just how shimmery their laminate floors are and just how slick the whole house feels. I am amazed that I am not tripping over three hundred little toys and their crawling babies are still in pristine white babygro's - (ok maybe I shouldn't use her as a mop....!)

But when does one confess to a new pal that when they visit for the first time it will be the only time that they will ever see the carpet? That they are NEVER allowed into the kitchen as if they did venture in they would NEVER allow their children to eat at your home. And actually, no the children never flush the loo and always leave trails of loo roll all round the house . . .

And another question - where do people stash their washing when they have visitors?