(no subject)

Old friend from Chicago plus daughter arrive in approx 24 hours. Am attempting to detox the house in preparation for their arrival; unfortunately it is so long since I last saw them that I can't remember whether they tend towards happy-go-filthy or neatfreakness. In which case let us err towards neat. Yes.

I was boring on and on about the house I saw the other day (the one with the gloss white kitchen and the Dutch masters) and B. said dismissively 'Oh, well, she doesn't work'; which is useless and rude as a response; it certainly doesn't account for the slightly less artistic ultra-minimalism of my neighbour, who works full-time and has 4 boys and a floating CD rack.

I have been reading house porn and ripping pictures from magazines in an effort to piece together the future Look of my house. And cleaning. One website I came across (because, trust me, it's so much easier to declutter when surfing the internet) said 'You should clean as though God were coming!', although I tend to think she had never met ravurian.

House magazines are sort of depressing and inspiring, though. 'Here's how we made over our 5-storey Notting Hill pad with only £300,000, an architect and a lot of plate glass.' As I'm admiring the Damien Hirst skull painting in this couple's front room, I work out from the small print that this particular West London Everywoman was in fact married to the bassist from Coldplay. (Mind you, this is quite funny).

The budget magazine alternative is almost worse, though: Stepford wives transforming beige semis with the help of ...oh, £25,000 and a background in interior decorating, a husband who's a property developer and a lot of plate glass MDF. Here's one for the common man: 'I transformed my cramped and unused 6th bedroom into a luxury en-suite bathroom.' Bah.