The Path to Enlightenment (via Tesco's)

Got an Alexander Technique lesson today. At the library. Free. Gonna have to nick my daughters camping mat, and wear black trousers.

Now I don't mind this, obviously. I signed up for it and everything. But also my heart sinks. Have to tidy the whole of the house before I go.

No-one's ever demanded this of me. Even when the children were little, Husband never used to say a word about the Teletubby floor puzzles and upturned beakers that greeted him when he came in. But somehow I have to.

Beds made, Shoe rack and coats tidied (a vital and underrated hallway factor), washing up and floor swept. Luckily I don't have to blacken the fireplace or clean the silver. But I like it to be nice for when kids and Husband walk in.

Think it goes back to when I was a child. My home being a shithole and that. Bed never made, lino never swept, the settee never cleared. So demoralizing to come back to. Think my mum couldn't be arsed. She never went to work or anything.

I like reading about the fifties and sixties and that. When housework really was a full-time occupation. When it was more laborious. Monday would be laundry, Tuesday ironing, Wednesday baking day, Thursday floor cleaning and Friday was polishing. Good days them!

When the children were toddlers, one day a week we would go round to my mate's who had a child of similar age. We would trash her house good and proper, and return to a serene and immaculate home. Of course it never stayed that way for long. Especially round teatime, but somehow it was soothing pshcologically. (can never spell that bloody word!).

And to return the favour, she would come round to me and do that same. Fair do's and all that.

Anyway, it would be suicidal to discover enlightenment at the local library, then come back to crusted oven dishes and that.

Will they let me smoke in there?

Mean that most sincerely....

Well. Watch that Hughie Green play, don't I. The one where he's played by Trevor Eve. All the memories of ITV dross coming flooding back. I remember Mr Green doing his nut, in 1971, when Myra Hindley went out for a walk over Hampstead Heath (on loan from Holloway). Shouting and raving the silly bugger was. All I wanted was to see if Bobby Crush had won again!

Probably '71 was really the last time I watched Opportunity Knocks. I don't remotely recall Lena Zaboroni or anyone.

Anyway, I get the book on Ebay, don't I. Hughie and Paula, Their Tangled Lives by his son Christopher Green. Expecting to keep hold of it for about a week, then passing it on to my mum.

Can't put the bloody thing down, can I! Two people I hadn't the remotest interest in before, are suddenly urgent and fascinating.

Supposed to be writing, yet all I can hear is Hughie calling for me. Pick me up, read some more, the ghostly voice wails. Never thought you were anything but a silly sod, I wail back. But my words are hot air, no more. He has me right by the armpits. Just like he did in '71.....

In fact, what am I doing on here......?