...turn to spring cleaning, obviously.
Today, I cleaned my car (I know, I know; who am I and what have I done with me?). Panic not, I've not changed so much; I won't be taking up golf any time soon.
In my defence, it was just the inside, filthy from the latest trip to the household recycling centre (that place that used to be called a tip). Certainly not the outside, filthy from a winter full of salty gritty roads (and another 3 or 4 winters before that; the last time I personally cleaned my car was when my father died).
Yes, my car has been cleaned since then. I distinctly remember the time I put the car through the wash at the garage, and wrenched my aerial off in the process (so that the carwash wouldn't damage it, you see).
So what prompted me to this rare act? Spring madness? No, it seems I've discovered a sense of pride. Or at least, a sense or bored frustration with the state of the car. Or because I'm planning on selling it. You decide.
In the process of cleaning, I found stones, more fingernails than I have fingers, and 2 bits of ladybird.
Two bits of ladybird. Well, it is spring.