I was on holiday with a friend when a journalist rang DH to make an appointment to come and interview him. DH was absolutely useless and having lived most of his working life in hotels, he treated being at home much the same. Thankfully, DD one made an unannounced visit on the morning the journalist was calling and having seen the loo, she was horrified to see the state of some of the other rooms. Not dirty, but just very dusty, untidy, with vases of dead flowers and drooping house plants. DD managed a quick clean and polish and said I’d have died from embarrassment although DH always maintained it just looked ‘lived in’.
Desperately sad story of the assisted suicide of a grieving mother
What's going on , on the street outside your home right now?

