We have a new arrival in the Blick household, and I can’t get enough of it. Most mornings, I arise, heart full of gratitude and not simply because I can still put on my trainers without keeling over during said balancing act. No, the reasons for my cup overflowing are plentiful and presently centred on a new family member. I love taking it for a spin, afterwards, cooing at its power, its earth shattering ability to conquer any surface it traverses, lights a blazing, with the sound equivalent of a 747, about to take off at Gatwick.
I’m referring to my new vacuum cleaner.
Granted, I need biceps the size of Arnie’s to push it but that’s not hindering my progress, not one bit. And I won’t hear a word against it. But first, why the need for this tribute to engineering excellence?
Well, our previous, user friendly, but as it transpired, useless cleaner, had everything going for it, on paper.
Simply follow the trail
It was lightweight. Had a trim dust cylinder with a special hair trap gizmo. And a lead so long you could use it as a skipping rope for an entire school. In the early months it didn’t let me down. If you know me, it won’t have escaped your attention that I have long, distinctive auburn hair, and like a dog, I’m prone to shedding. Then, every week, my son’s French Bulldog, Psmith (Named after the character in the Jeeves and Wooster stories. Please respect the silent P, he hates you referring to him as Smith) comes to stay. He’s a little shedder too and given full reign of the house; a privilege I believe all dogs should be afforded in their senior years. Visit and you’ll not have to venture far to find us. Simply follow the trail of hair and bob’s your uncle. There we are, napping in the conservatory, two old, contented mutts.
In the early months, when I was still in love with my previous vacuum, I became quite enamoured with the hair catching gizmo.
‘Babe! Look at all the hair it’s captured!,’ was an invitation my husband studiously ignored, having had a strained relationship with my stray hair turning up in the most unfortunate of places, most recently in his risotto. But as with all things lightweight and lovely, eventually the vacuum began to protest and I found myself retracing its moves, picking up the random white bits, cursing at the fluff stuck to the floor.
I called time on it a few weeks ago and decided to pursue a beast instead. When the new model arrived, it resembled something from a bygone era. However, the canister was enormous and the cyclone bit for extracting hair, was five times the size of my previous vacuum. I’d wager it could suction an entire head of hair. Worrying but nonetheless, promising signs.
Husband assembled it and for a few days I did nothing other than admire it and attempt to decipher the instructions, doing what I usually do. Disregard half of them and stick to the basics; how to switch it on and off.
Tentatively I gave it a spin in the family room. Before long, the tears of gratitude were flowing.
Now before you jump to the conclusion that we’re a family of dust dispensing slatterns, I must tell you that most days, our home, especially the downstairs, is clean and tidy. In fact, since Katie Wellman sprinkled her decluttering magic on the kitchen, you can now open the fridge door and you’ll not be bathed in Waitrose, Greek Style Yoghurt, nor will a jar of beetroot attempt to befriend your blouse. Whilst I’m not like an estranged Aunt, who catches dust before it lands, I am house proud, and this pride extends to every surface, well downstairs anyway.
A dusty revelation
So, what did I discover when I began my morning workout with The Beast? Well, the small innocuous family room carpet was hiding a smorgasbord of dust and gremlins, now safely sucked into the canister.
Marvelled at for several minutes before I duly emptied it, I then tackled the rugs in the lounge, downstairs bedroom, and conservatory. Two bin trips later and I didn’t know whether to knight The Beast or compose a damning letter to the manufacturers of the previous incumbent. I’m not even going to share what happened when I ventured upstairs, where I confess vacuuming duties of late have been erratic. Cut me some slack, I’ve been writing a book.
Four more trips later to the bin; half a head of long hair plus dog hairs that could fill a canine compound at Crufts, I sat back, marvelling at The Beast and my spotless floors. Not a white bit in sight.
I blame the old cleaner. Not fit for purpose. Hang its hose in shame.
In fact, given there are just two of us rattling around Blick Towers, how on earth does a family with children and dogs cope with dust, pet hair, and white bits on steroids? I put this question to my daughter in law who raised an eyebrow, telling me she has more things to worry about than putting her vacuum to the test. She did however concede she has yet to find the perfect one.
The Beast awaits her call to arms.
About Dee Blick
Local Horsham resident, Dee is something of a writer.
In fact, she has written 5 books of note, with her sixth now safe and sound at her publishers, scheduled for release in November. Her most recent book, The Boutique, is a collection of 9 gritty and moving short stories, with each character connected through their appreciation of a fashion shop. She has just finished writing her fifth marketing book – You’re the Best! How to build an authentic and magnetic personal brand. When Dee is not writing books you’ll find her writing articles like this one or heading to a local café to satisfy her desire for sourdough toast with marmite, accompanied by Pear and Apple juice.
If you like this post by Dee, you may also like:
