If I hadn't cleaned my roof today....

I am not what you would call a house-proud individual. Not one of those women who live in chocolate box picture perfection. Not bothered about a bit of dust here, or the odd pile of bric a brac in the corner. So it came as a bit of a surprise to discover that having a dirty roof bothered me. Yes, a dirty roof. For the past couple of years the natural red terracotta tiles have become discoloured. Probably polluted by all those fashionable wood-burning stoves and diesel-driven cars that are turning fresh air into a toxic inhalant. As a result, the roof was making the exterior of the house look sad and underloved. It is probably ten years since we last painted the outside of the house, so it is on the agenda.  It had occurred to us that with a roof looking so woe-begone, no amount of white paint on the rendering below, would produce the up-lift we were looking for.

This morning our local roofing company undertook to pressure-wash our tiles. Weigh-in day for me meant I had to leave them to it. However, the responsibility of having two men on my roof weighed heavily, so to speak, and I returned early to make them coffee and reassure them with my presence.
(I have, I might say, a very reassuring presence. I cheer on from the side-lines, provide liquid refreshment, and take photos; thereby  proving that I am available to ring emergency services at the first glimpse of a falling body.)

When the doorbell rang, I saw a nippy little sports car pulled up outside and a very glamorous lady standing in front of me. I immediately assumed that she had stopped to ask the name of the company who was doing such a marvellous job on my roof. But no, this was Heather who was calling in on the off-chance of finding me at home, as our phone number had changed. We hadn't seen each other for ten years, but had attended the Guildhall of Music and Drama together in the seventies. While she parked the car safely, I swiftly gathered up drying underwear festooned on the radiators, and did a ten second sweep.

As I said previously, I am not a house-proud woman, but I held my head high as I am embraced this dear friend, knowing that, at least, the roof above our heads, was immaculate.

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