Dear Aunty Jean,
I have been through the most terrible ordeal this week!
My cleaning lady, Lynne, who I only had working for me a mere 10 hours a day, suddenly went berserk this morning and threw her duster down on the drawing-room floor. This was after I, quite reasonably I thought, pointed out to her that when she replaced the silver framed photograph I have of my parents attending the Lord Mayor’s Banquet in 1975, she had not put it back onto the mantle piece in precisely the same place as when she picked it up.
As much as it pains me to use European measurements, I think that this occasion warrants it.
The photo frame was plonked back down about 1mm to the left of where it should be. This isn’t the first time that I have had to put up with her lazy attitude.
Only last week after she had changed the bed sheets I noticed that there was a crease measuring a good 8th of an inch (Welcome back Imperial measurements!) on the bed sheet under my pillow.
I had it out with her over the bed sheet incident she promised that it would never happen again.
And after the promises we had this with the photo frame and duster today!
I said ‘Pick that up! Do you think I almost pay you the minimum wage to put up with this kind of nonsense?’
And then she screamed at me ‘F**k off you psychotic Bas*ard. Pick it up yourself you useless bone idle d**khead and then stick it up your f**king a**e!’
To say I was shocked was the understatement of the century! She then said she was handing her notice in and on the way out of my beautiful home she picked up one of my orchids and emptied the compost it was growing in, all over my marble hall floor.
I phoned my darling husband to tell him what had happened. He is on a business trip with his secretary Letitia and while he was sympathetic to me he didn’t sound too good as he was very short of breath.
Do you think he could have asthma and is hiding it from me?
I asked where Letitia was as I thought she might pop out and buy some menthol sweets for him, but he said she couldn’t as she was ‘getting her head down’.
Yes, I suppose she was tired after the 45 minute flight to Guernsey.
Anyway, just an hour after the call to my darling husband, he had arranged for an emergency cleaning crew to come round. They picked the duster up, and cleaned up my hall floor.
I’d also phoned my doctor who came round and put me on a course of tranquilizers, sleeping pills and antidepressants to help me through this dark time.
My husband has also arranged an interim char lady (she doesn’t speak English but responds quite well to mimed instructions) until I can find a new permanent cleaner.
But the full horror of what my ex-cleaner has done to hurt me was only revealed today. This morning my chauffeur was taking me to one of my charity committee meetings, several of my friends and I gather once a month to see what we can do to patronize the poor, when I saw that the cleaner had come back unawares and had tied dozens of ‘Vote Labour’ and ‘I love Jeremy Corbyn’ posters all over the ornamental railings (They’re modelled on what Her Majesty the Queen has at Buckingham Palace) which surround our grounds.
I know it was her as she had also tied a sheet with the spray painted words ‘Your days are numbered you over-privileged twat, all the best, Lynne’ next to the posters.
How could she have done this to me? I have been a model employer and gave her a Christmas bonus of £10.
I had to deduct it from her wages the following week of course after I saw she was getting down the cleaning materials a little too quickly. I demand a spotless house but I don’t like waste!
Why has she been so cruelly ungrateful to me? Is there anything worse than to have people drive past your home and think you are a socialist? My gardener has taken the offending posters and sheet down, but how will I ever look at my railings with pride again? The memories of this terrible day with follow me all my life.
I am bereft! Please, Aunty Jean, guide me through this difficult period.
Yours, suffering deeply, Penelope, Surbiton.
Aunty Jean says:
Dear suffering Surbiton,
I have to say that I am astounded at the behaviour of your cleaning lady. She should be grateful to leave the hovel that she lives in and be able to come to your beautiful home every day!
Quite frankly you’d think that she’d be happy to work for nothing.
But understanding the working classes is never easy. Why do people who can’t even afford a second home insist upon breeding?
It’s all beyond me!
What I suggest is a good dose of revenge, get your gardener to paste a few posters of Margaret Thatcher to the front of this ‘Lynne’s’ dilapidated council house and see how she likes it!
And, yes, it does sound like you husband may have asthma. Tell Letitia to always make sure she’s got a couple of things for him to suck on when they’re away together.
You may not realise it now, but the memories of this dark time will pass and your railings will once again play a prominent role in your life.
Hope that help! Aunty Jean
Remember! Never trust someone who puts other people first with running the country!
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