3
The following day, I set to work, starting in the kitchen. Hardly the most fastidious of people, even I baulked at what looked like mouse droppings tracing an erratic route across the red flagstones of the floor. In daylight which shone dimly through windows covered in a film of grime, cobwebs were visible, weighed down with dust. In a broom cupboard I came across an ancient feather duster which was more or less intact. Starting at the top, I did my best to remove the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. After a while my arms were aching and my hair was full of dust, but the ceiling was clear. I was desperate to wash my hair but I pressed on, wiping greasy worktops, scouring filthy corners, laboriously working my way down to the floor. By the time I turned up at the shop for a third round
