Telling

Squeaky clean: getting to grips with green cleaning

I’ve had a problem with cleaning for some time.  That is the ethics of it, not the actual doing of it, though admittedly that can sometimes be a challenge as well.  I remember some time ago having a conversation with a colleague about the ethics of employing a cleaner.  She employed a cleaner but had gone through a company where she was sure that the cleaners were paid decently and had proper employment rights and protection.  I was really impressed.  Such a thought had never crossed my mind.  I had only thought whether I could afford it or not and had come to the conclusion that I couldn’t.  But her words resonated and when I got a pay rise and got a cleaner, I went through a company where I paid a bit more but I thought the cleaners were getting a reasonable deal.

But the cleaners were rubbish.  Well, they weren’t entirely rubbish, I always liked coming home after they had been, but I had all those inevitable thoughts about how I knew they weren’t spending as long in the house as they said they were and I could do a better job myself and all those other clichés.  I felt like a right uppity housewife.

Then swine flu came along and everyone is expected to be ten times more hygienic than they used to be.  The public information leaflet that has been delivered to everyone says in it that the germs which spread the virus can live on surfaces for some time.  For some time.  I know this to be true.  After we got the vomiting noro-virus (famous for wrecking cruises) a few Christmases ago we disinfected the whole house but our friends still got it when they came to stay for New Year.  So I have this fear about swine flu which raises my anxiety about cleaning even more.

So I decided to take matters into my own hands and sacked the cleaners.  The problem is that when you’re doing it yourself and it’s hard to find the time and when you do find the time the toddler is desperate to ‘help’ then it can all become something of a stressful experience.   The temptation to undergo a huge chemical onslaught in an attempt to get it all over and done with in a speedy flurry is overwhelming.  I bought Flash, I bought Mr Muscle, I even thought about buying Cillit Bang because the advertising is so god damn persuasive but fortunately I didn’t get round to it before I came to my senses.  I was putting some toxic combination of bleach and limescale remover on the shower floor and I could barely breathe when I raised my head to gasp at the open window and resolved to look into green cleaning.

I knew a little bit about green cleaning from Leo Hickman’s book A Life Stripped Bare and he was fairly positive about it.  It’s nice to think that when the bubbles go down the plughole they are not going to be changing the gender of fishes somewhere further down the line.  But I guess I’d never got into it because scrubbing with baking soda and lemon juice sounded like hard work and when you’ve got two preschool children and a job, hard work in the home sounds like a bad idea.  However, it was partly worry about the impact nasty chemicals were having on the children that was making me dissatisfied with commercial products in the first place.  So I bought Angela Greer’s book Natural Stain Removal (£4.99) and did some of the witchy concoctions in it.  I don’t think I’ve enjoyed brewing anything so much since making ‘perfume’ for my mother out of dead rose petals and water as a child.  So I’d recommend you do it.  Transforming an essentially boring and statusless chore into a chemical education has been a real joy.  Here are my ten pearls of wisdom about green cleaning.

1. Give your nasty commercial products to a pal.  This is marginally better for the environment than throwing them out if they’re going to be using them anyway.  Then buy some greening clean basics (baking soda, vinegar, lemon juice, borax and eucalyptus oil) and get mixing.
2. Invest in a proper cleaning caddy rather than having everything in a jumble under the sink.  If you are organised you’ll use fewer products.  I’d recommend the sleek John Lewis version.
3. Use a solution of borax, hot water and tea tree oil to disinfect rubbish bins (with all those swine flu tissues in...) and other surfaces.
4. Use salt, borax and baking soda (add a little water to make a paste) to clean the oven.  It’s a little messy but smells considerably better than commercial versions and does work.
5. Once you’ve cleaned your bath with baking soda and vinegar, polish it off with eucalyptus oil (particularly good on darker baths).  It will look so sparkly and tempting you’ll feel like you’re staying in a hotel.
6. Keep a bottle of soda water to hand to fizz away carpet stains (such as tea) as soon as they happen.
7. Leave fabrics to dry outside.  Sunlight is a natural bleaching agent and the air will deodorise them.
8. Clean windows with a mixture of hot water and white vinegar then wipe with newspaper  – a classic and it works.
9. Wash wooden floors with peppermint tea.  The dust will come away and the floor will look and smell fresh.
10. Scrub away soap residue on shower doors with a mixture of salt and lemon juice.

 

I was thoroughly pleased with the results.  I no longer feel like I’ve got to evacuate the children from the house just to clean the bathroom and cleaning feels like less of a chore.  Admittedly, there are a few downsides to the project.  There is a risk that your house will smell like a chip shop because vinegar (a mild disinfectant) is an ingredient in a lot of green cleaning recipes.  But I’ve found the smell doesn’t last long and a lot of the essential oils Angela uses in the recipes smell marvellous!  The book claims that you can save money but in my own case this has been marginal because I’ve developed a bit of an essential oil habit – a small bottle can be as much as a fiver, though they do last a long time.  Other than that there is nothing bad to say about green cleaning.  Perhaps the best endorsement of all is that my house is clean.  Not obsessively so, but come round, run your finger along the mantelpiece, it’s clean I promise you!  Clean and as sparklingly clear as my conscience.

 

Doing research differently

I am currently reading Doing Research Differently by Wendy Hollway and Tony Jefferson.  It is really good and so far seems to endorse my own research style which is nice!  The authors are qualitative researchers looking at fear of crime.  They criticise traditional quantitative questions used to measure fear of crime such as "how safe do you feel walking alone in this area after dark" as too suggestive of particular types of crime and evoking fears which might not relate to crime at all (Why might you be "walking alone" in the first place?  Is this not the stuff of nightmares and films rather than everyday experience?)  They point to alternative qualitative approaches and in particular the "non-inventionist free narrative".  This approach does not expect the interviewee to understand completely their own actions, motivations or feelings and looks for clues within stories for psycho-social explanations for why they feel the way they do about crime.  Story telling has the advantage of having 'indexicality' in that they contain certain facts or signficances beyond the tellers intentions.

One problem with the free narrative is that whilst I'm sure it can work excellently in a one to one conversation about crime, which is after all a whole literary genre, I'm not sure it works nearly so well in group situations addressing less colourful subjects, say dishwashers or pensions.  In addition, one of my problems with facilitation can be overindulging  the keen story tellers at the expense of the other participants' boredom levels.  My rescue is the facilitator 'box of tricks' which has to be prepared well in advance.  This contains small exercises such as point allocation games, completion tasks or role play to get out of the groove of well rehearsed stories and into new and surprising terrain.

The Worst Journey in the World

I've just finished reading this book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard.  It really is magnificent and goes once again to show that it is only worthwhile reading books recommended by my mother.  I've had a lot of disappointing fiction reads recently (you know who you are Donna Tartt et al) and I think I'll stick to the world of fact for a while.  There's enough in the annals of Antarctic exploration to keep me going for some years I feel.

The book is two inches thick and heavy going at times.  I don't understand how large, wooden sailing ships work and much of the detail in the account of the sail from New Zealand to the Antarctic is lost on me.  But if you can tolerate being a little baffled by the scientific description and concentrate on the heart of the book, which is about friendship, tragedy, great risks, scientific discovery and an awe of nature, this is one of the most rewarding reads you can ever imagine.

At the end of the book I was left feeling intensely sympathic towards the author who writes with a clarity and honesty which rises above the ideals of the day.  The men on Scotts expedition were heroic, patriotic and patriarchic in a way which seems misplaced now. Cherry-Garrard himself was all of these things yet was also full of doubts about them.  A young man desperate to prove himself (he paid to go on the expedition) he paid the price for his three years in the South with a lifelong overdraft and a series of nervous breakdowns.

One reason for his distress is widely supposed to be his preoccupation about the five men who died on their way home from the Pole.  He and another companion made up the last support party which laid depots for the returning Polar party.  He could never have known about it at the time, but Scott and his men died in a blizzard only eleven miles from the last depot Cherry laid.  It is a fruitless thought but what might have been different if Cherry had gone eleven miles further and laid even just a small amount of food and fuel under a cairn and a flag?  One of the fascinations with the story of Scott's Last Expedition is the 'if onlys' about how the men could have survived.  In fact the real wonder is why more men did not perish in the support party and the additional scientific expeditions - all of which took huge risks.

In his foreword to the book, Paul Theroux suggests that in contrast to the Antarctic "one of the reasons we are still ignorant of what space travel or lunar exploration is like: no astronaut has shown any ability to convey the experience in writing".  I certainly feel that this observation is true.  I sometimes feel I have even been to the Antarctic, whereas I never feel the same about outer space!  I have noticed further parallels in my recent work with Demos on the future of space travel.  One dilemma that The European Space Agency and others face is whether to focus their resources on one grand gesture - such as a manned mission to the moon - or whether to focus on a wider range of scientific probes which may be of practical help to life on earth. 

They may take some inspiration from history.  The goal of Scott's expedition was twofold.  To reach the pole and to carry out scientific observations and experiments on unknown terrain.  In contrast Amundsen's expedition had only one goal: to reach the pole for the glory of Norway.  Scott's expedition was a failure in its first goal but it captured the public imagination for its heroicism in a way that Amundsen's never could.

The Laughter of Stafford Girls High

How good is this poem, reviewed here?!  In my eternal search for the perfect baby's name (see previous post) i thought i might find a name here, read out on Radio 4 by Joanna Lumley.  The poem describes the infectious laughter of a school of girls and the effect this has on the teachers.  It is a very long poem and it bubbles with names, always in dual form and always using the same rhythm.

Carolann Clare
Emily Jane
Rosemary Beth
Jennifer Kay
Marjorie May
Jessica Kate
Geraldine Ruth
Angela Joy
Caroline Joan
Ursula Fleur
Josephine June
Emmeline Belle
Diana Kim
Gillian Tess
Anthea Meg
Melanie Hope
Andrea Lyn
Francesca Eve
Nigella Dawn

I don't think I'd actually use any of the names (less of a hypothetical issue these days) but I might begin to pretend that my middle name is Tess in honour of the poem.

The White Working Class

Am currently reading the book “The Likes of Us: a biography of the white working class” by Michael Collins.  I could probably add this to my list of embarrassing tube reading as a couple of people have queried the inclusion of ‘white’ in the title. Why not just ‘working class’?

But the inclusion of ‘white’ is crucial because Collin’s slow-build argument centres upon the idea that whilst we romanticise the cockney culture of the past it is still acceptable to ridicule modern white working class culture (white trash, ‘chav’) in a way that would be unacceptable for any other ethnicities.  Collins’ criticism seems to be levied most forcefully at the media classes who balk at the idea of any kind racial stereotyping unless it is of white working class people (they love Gucci and hate the Euro)

Collins’ book centres upon an area of South London of which I am rather fond.  A couple of years ago I took a couple of walking tours from Morley College near Waterloo.  One of the tour guides was a true South London Cockney who insisted on taking us in his car (there were only three of us) with the heating at full blast.  I liked him too much to ask him to turn it down even though it was nearly intolerable.  A friend claims that overheating of homes and cars is a sign of the true working class because outdoor workers value comfort in the same way that middle class people value long bracing walks.

On the 'walk' we saw the sight of the debtors prison where Charles Dickens’ father was imprisoned, numerous quaint Guinness and Octavia Hill almshouses, the necropolis line into London, the sites of old Vaudeville theatres, Charlie Chaplin’s various temporary childhood homes, the ‘stench’ pipes from the sewers and the site of the old Lambeth Walk.  Collins argues that over the last century this area has been pillaged of its architectural, historical and cultural wealth through a mixture of war, neglect, do-gooders and doomed social and architectural projects.  Many of the white working classes have moved away to satellite towns, but some remain. 

Collin’s book is essentially a good read about an important subject but I am getting increasingly irritated with books by journalists.  Another recent read was “a life stripped bare” by Leo Hickman.  I buy books by journalists because they tend to have a good angle, are topical and informative.  The problem is that they are really irritating for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on.  Perhaps it is their self indulgent and self referential style.  Perhaps it is their tendency to drag in places and pun too often.  As a reader I also get a sense they are books that have been compiled rather than created. 

One paradox Collins neglects is the fact that although contempt of the white working class and particularly resettled cockneys is common, it is also true that being working class is more aspirational than it has ever been.  A recent poll showed that 68% of the UK population claimed to be ‘working class and proud of it’ even though conventional social grading criteria would put many of them in a middle class bracket. 

A short history of tractors in Ukrainian

I'm not keen on reading reviews or taking recommendations from friends so when choosing a book I often choose on the basis of the title alone.  So you can see why I read "A short history of tractors in Ukrainian". The character of the old man with the passport seeking, busty blond, much-younger wife is very convincing and I can't help feeling that the author Marina Lewycka had a father like this. 

Tilling and E. F. Benson

Went to Rye over Easter which is of course the inspiration for E. F. Benson’s famous Tilling - the location for the Mapp and Lucia series.  It is unbelievably picturesque.  I am a Luciaphile which adds weight to my friend Helen’s theory that I only read books about rich people.  The characters are indeed rich, but the domestic comedy is as fresh as paint 90 years on.  “We will pay anything for Lucia books!” said Nancy Mitford, Noel Coward and WH Auden.  “I may have gone to my grave not knowing about Mapp and Lucia, not a prospect to be taken lightly” said someone else, can’t remember who. 

E. F. Benson lived in Lamb House in Rye.  Before Benson lived there Lamb House was the residence of Henry James and is presented by the National Trust as ‘Henry James’ residence”.  How do they decide these things?  I’m sure E. F. Benson is much better than Henry James and the house plays a key role in the Lucia books (Mallards).  But E. F. Benson is relegated as far as the National Trust is concerned, and the Tilling Society had to campaign hard to have a plaque erected in his honour.  I went up to the man at the desk and said “I’m not really interested in Henry James, have you got anything on E. F. Benson?”.  He didn’t look that impressed but I’m sure he must get this all the time.  Thankfully, there was a bookcase and a poster with some information about Benson and his life.

I’m not sure they make people like E. F. Benson anymore.  Born in 1867 he was the son of the Archbishop of Canterbury and got a double first from Cambridge.  He was an Olympic gold medallist in figure skating and an expert in archaeology and birdwatching.  He holidayed in Davos and Capri.  He was gay yet married.  He published over 100 books.  Many of his family were also famous and his brother wrote the words to ‘Land of Hope and Glory’.

Benson’s pedigree set me thinking about how family connections can breed success.  Being the Archbishop’s son and having an education at Wellington and Cambridge certainly can’t have done Benson any harm.  But I think Benson’s enduring success with Lucia (all his other books have been forgotten) is due to the fact that they are funny.  I think comic genius crosses many social and class divisions and cannot be manufactured, no matter how good your education. 

Talking of family connections I was astonished to learn recently that Nixon’s granddaughter and Eisenhower’s great grandson are actually married.  I initially thought this was just a coincidence, but a friend convinced me that the American political classes are horribly interconnected.  In this country Hillary Benn is Tony Benn’s son and Jack Straw’s brother is head of Relate – but this is hardly Jeb Bushesque.  Was a bit shocked however that Baroness Jay is the daughter of Callaghan.  Problem is, whenever I announce snippets like this to anyone it turns out that everyone else already knows and doesn’t think it remarkable at all.

Embarrassing tube reading

I am a bit of a fan of sordid true crime and have just finished the first Gitta Sereny book on child killer Mary Bell.  One of those books you just try not to show the cover to anyone on the tube.  Various surprises in the book.  I hadn't known that Mary Bell was tried with another girl who was acquitted (whatever happened to Norma Bell? - no relation)  The book also strongly implies that Mary Bell's mother tried to kill her on at least four occasions in her early childhood.  The portrayal of 1960s Scotswood in Newcastle is charming in a disturbing kind of way.

There is a second book, 'Cries Unheard' on the subject - for which Mary Bell was notoriously paid.  I agree with the principle that criminals should not be allowed to profit from their crimes, but I might be a hypocrite and read the book, now I've got into it and all.  Might try to disguise the cover with a Da Vinci Code or something.  Am a bit sensitive about my reading material ever since I was accosted whilst reading Albert Speer's Inside the Third Reich.