As is the case with all of my best laid plans, today I ended up not doing what I intended to do. Instead of making elderberry ice-cream, I was instructed by 'The Boss' to clean the bathroom from ceiling to floor, then dust, polish and vacuum the upstairs landing and all the stairs to the first floor landing all the way to the ground floor. Not only did I have to do it, and do it well (it had to pass muster), but I had to do it all before the Celtic game started at two o'clock. A real race against time. I couldn't take any shortcuts at all, for I was being supervised from a distance: it had to be done, and it had to be done right. Armed with bleach, disinfectant, toilet duck and sundry other cleaning products and cloths, I set to it. I scoured everything. Nothing escaped my marigolded hands. After one hour, the bathroom was spotless from top to bottom - I even cleaned the ceiling! The race was on. I still had three landings and two flights of stairs to polish and vacuum, and the game was due to start in just under one hour. I moved as swiftly as my sciatica striken spine would allow, nimbly working my way down the stairs with the vacuum cleaner, pledge and duster. I made it to the first floor landing, where I had to empty the bookcase and dust the books and shelves and vacuum the curtains. I worked swiftly, determined not to pause to dip into the various half-forgotten books. I was almost tempted to replace the books in alphabetical order by author, but I decided that that would take too much time; so I restacked them according to size instead. It was taking too long, however. The football was about to start and I had only just finished replacing the books. I heard the theme music. I looked at Linda with the most pathetically pleading look I could muster. She relented: 'You can do the rest at half-time'.