There is a pregnant silence (not Mrs. Angloswiss, it would be a biological miracle as a golden oldie), but the spectators are waiting and then she appears. Cheers arrive, the people are clapping but she raises her hands and they are silenced. The weekly corridor marathon is about to begin. For the last hour and a half she has been preparing, psychologically and physically. Her brain and body were both relaxing in the golden oldie midday sleep, knowing that preparations would be necessary for the work ahead.
She walked to the beginning of the corridor, making a careful study of the surfaces to be cleaned. The audience were now silent, not wanting to disturb the concentrated thoughts of our marathon runner. They knew it was not a case of being the quickest, but the most thorough, having the best results and the cleaned surfaces reflecting afterwards. It would be a test of endurance
She approached the kitchen and began the carefully studied preparations, no race could be won without plans. The sink was slowly filled with a hand controlled temperature of water, not too hot and not too cold, blood temperature. The crowd took a deep breath, recognising the precision that was now being applied. The cleaning utensils were ready: a flask of environment friendly cleaning liquid, and a drying cloth, cleanly laundered. In the sink an absorbant cleaning glove. This was now a moment of precision, of exactly calculated muscle control. She removed the glove from the water, gave it a firm squeeze to release the overload of liquid, and the crowd held their breath, there was a tension in the air, would she, or could she? These questions were hanging in the air.
Mrs. Angloswiss put on her glove and made her initial movements on the frame of the kitchen door. “Oooh” was murmured by the spectators, but she cotinued regardles, losing no time, as time was important. To be at the top of the list you had no seconds to spare to look out of a window or take photographs. This was a work of careful calculation. She looked over her shoulder and saw that there were no compeitors in sight, she was alone with just a clock on the wall to tell her how much time she had to spare.
She progressed by wiping over the kitchen door and the side of the cupboard in the corridor. A sigh of relief could be heard as the final touches were made on the cupboard and first door of the corridor. A swift calculated wipe over with the glove and a drying motion with the special towel: two doors and a cupboard were already completed, together with their frames. She walked on dauntless.
Now came the trcky part, but Mrs. Angloswiss had everything under control. A rub and a swipe over the surface of the main entrance and shower door and she could continue. Now more speed was required. The three bedroom doors had to be cleaned on both sides: double work and needing double time. This was no problem – did she utter a profanity when pushing a piece of furniture away with her foot? It was disregarded by Mrs. Angloswiss and the crowd, there was no time to spare. The finishing line was already in view. Now it was necessary to cross the winning line. Yes she did it.
As she walked through the last boundary, her strength was almost diminished. There were beads if sweat on her brow, but she raised her gloved hand, dripping drops of cleaning liquid on her head and shook it defiantly. Yes, I can, she said. A small wipe for a woman, but a great clean for a corridor. She nodded to the onlookers, accepting her standing ovation with pride.
She was overwhelmed with likes and awarded a symbolic hand with a thumbs up sign. She sank to her computer to write all about it and took a selfie with her hand held mobile telephone camera for the record, whilst she enjoyed the awaiting sustaining break consisting of a glass of water to replenish the loss of liquid and a carnival cookie.