Just for you M.E. Today's blog is brought to you by Pooks aka The Good One and the one who 'sounds' Irish.

Why does nobody call to visit when your house is clean? Is there a law in some dusty statute book somewhere that every last relative, friend and the Minister can only call at the house when every room in your house looks like some Whirling Dervish held a party for all his mates? My Granny used to say that you should always have one room in your house that's clean enough for visitors. She told me that girls shouldn't shout or lose their tempers - I ignored that one as well.

Yesterday I thought I'd do some writing - I do every now and again. However the house looked like the before scene from a Kim and Aggie show. Now someone who cared about whether her towels were folded and whether you could see what colour the sofa was under all the detritus of family life might have decided to do something about it. Me? Well, normally I'd ignore it. Housework and I long,long ago come to an understanding about its importance in my life - as long as the house is clean enough not to give us the heebie-geebies that's all I ask of myself. The family and especially my Mother-in-Law have learned to deal. BUT, I've discovered that the only thing worse than housework is a story which wont go the way you want. It is a complete mystery to me how characters which have been made up in your own head suddenly decide to do the opposite thing that you'd planned they would. So I did the only thing open to someone who's trying to write and has started to see their computer as the enemy - I cleaned. (I'm leaving space here for those who know me better than you lot to gasp!)

When the house was clean and the kids were fair scared to breathe, I sat down to do some more writing. Just as my Ma-in-Law rolled up in the car bringing with her relatives from Scotland. For once we didn't have to do the 'Granny's here' dash of cleaning - you know the one where you stuff so much stuff under the cushions of the sofa it looks like a camel. Hugs and Kisses and I went to put the kettle on. It's an Irish thing; the minute someone arrives you have a very small time window for the offering of the tea/coffee and something nice to eat. The BigLad's cousin follows me into the kitchen just to laugh in peace. My lovely Ma-in-Law had warned them, 'Now the house will be like a midden, but she'll have something baked in the tins for tea.' Her cousin had turned to her and said 'You think this is untidy? God love her having to put up with you as a Mother-in-Law.' Youngest child turns and says 'Oh it doesn't always look like this, this is because she's writing.' Blank looks. "She starts to shout at the computer, sticks her hands through her hair and decides to do the ironing instead." I entered the room to this and jumped in with " I'm writing things for Work. " Well they are stories about people at work. Was it really a lie? Anyway I put Rich Tea biscuits on a plate to have with the tea. That will teach her. She can have a choice - a clean house or baked goods.

Well, two days in a row. Aren't you proud Ms Slider? My writing partner - a travel agent for guilt trips.